Cato&Clove - Our Story
by musician95
Summary: What if Clove had meant more to Cato than he would've admitted? And what if Cato had somehow been able to save her at the feast? Would things have turned out differently? Follow Clove into the 74th Hunger Games, experience her increasing feelings for Cato and find out how things could've been if she'd survived the feast...
1. Prologue

_Prologue_

There he is, looking absolutely perfect.

Who I'm talking about, you want to know? Cato, this year's male volunteer for the Hunger Games. And my fellow tribute, by the way.

I've seen him a couple of times at the academy every Career in our district attends to prepare for the Games. I didn't watch him closely, but still I remember that I couldn't avert my eyes when he was in a hand-to-hand combat. I remember that I've admired his strength, his cold-bloodedness and his brutality.

Anyway, I didn't even know his name until he volunteered about two minutes ago. And now he's standing only a few steps away, on the other side of the stage, grinning confidently and waving into the crowd as if he'd just won a prize or something.

I can't help but smile; partly because it's so funny watching his little performance here on stage, and partly because I couldn't imagine a better fellow tribute. I'm so happy it's him, I feel like I could dance and cut capers and party all night…

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present you District Two's tributes for the 74th Hunger Games", I hear our escort announce solemnly. "Cato and Clove!"

I smile brightly as the crowd begins to cheer. I feel the adrenaline rushing through me and I'm pretty sure Cato feels the same way.

_I've trained all my life for this chance. Fame and fortune for me and my family. Here I am, and I'm ready to go! Or should I say, ready to kill?_


	2. Chapter 1

The night before the Games, I lie in bed and I think back at that moment when Cato volunteered at the reaping and I could hardly believe my luck…

Well, things have developed a bit differently from what I expected. In a way, Cato and I are the perfect team – we quickly noticed at the Training Centre that we complement one another like none of the other District partners – but there's one thing my mentor told me that I just can't get out of my head.

_"Don't forget you'll need to kill him at the end, darling."_

I don't know why I haven't thought about it earlier. Maybe it was just too simple, too natural for a Career like me to understand its full extent. I mean, it has always been clear that I need to kill _everyone _if I want to win. Unfortunately, it never came to my mind that everyone includes Cato. We've discussed our strategy like two thousand times, but we never spent a thought on what would come if Cato and I had killed all of the other tributes. Until the night my mentor told me I had to kill Cato as well…

I know a good Career would know immediately what to do. I shouldn't even question this last act that separates me from my victory. But somehow, it feels wrong.

I like Cato, and I've always had the impression he likes me back. I'm sure he wouldn't think twice about killing me, though. I'm sure he knows that he has to kill me at the end and he won't have any doubts about it.

There's a sudden pain in my chest when I imagine Cato hunting me down with a spear or something, but I can tell it's not fear. I can't even remember the last time I felt pure fear… Maybe I don't know the feeling at all.

However, what I feel now is something different. Something I've felt before. The pain was less intense then, but it was the same.

Images appear in the darkness around me. Cato at the Opening Ceremonies, throwing a gamey look at District One's female tribute, Glimmer. Cato at the Training Centre, showing Glimmer his knife throwing abilities (which aren't half as good as mine, for what it's worth). Cato and Glimmer talking before the interviews; his hand wandering down her back while she's laughing over some stupid joke of his'.

I see Cato's fingers slide ever deeper, Glimmer's laugh growing ever louder until it sounds almost real – as if I was reliving the whole situation. I cover my ears with my hands and squeeze my eyes shut, but I can still hear her voice, still see his hand, and it makes me terribly aggressive. I want to punch that girl in her pretty face. I want to punch her so hard she'll never be able to laugh again.

With Cato, it's different. I don't feel the urge to punch him. I'm just, somehow, deeply disappointed. Yes, that describes the feeling pretty good. He could as well try to kill me; the feeling would be exactly the same.

I don't know what all of that means. I don't understand a thing. I know my strategy by heart, every step of it, and I'm ready to do whatever it takes. I don't care about the screams of those innocent children, I don't care about the looks on their faces that say: _Don't kill me, please don't kill me!_

They're going to die, every single one of them. I shouldn't care about Cato, either. I should kill him like he was one of them. Maybe, if I imagined him as tribute from Twelve, one of those stupid coal miners, it would all be easier…

I sigh. First step to victory is a good night's sleep. I'll have to start with that if I want to win. I just have to shut up this voice in my head that keeps telling me to think – about me, about Cato, about those Games and the prize I have to pay for winning them.

_So, you kill Cato and you get a life full of fame and fortune, what do you think? You'll live like the people in the Capitol. You'll be happy. This is what you've always dreamed of, Clove. Just kill him._

Just kill him; I wish it could be that easy!

_He'd kill you in the blink of an eye. Maybe he wouldn't if you were Glimmer… but you aren't._

I wonder if that's true. I know Cato would kill me, but what about Glimmer? Does he like her enough to spare her life?

Maybe. He likes her more than he likes me, that's for sure.

And suddenly, with that thought filling my head, I can't deny it any longer: Whatever happens, I can't forget that I've spent a lifetime training for this. I can't let Cato stand in my way, especially not when I'm not a quarter as important for him as he is for me. He wouldn't spare me, and I won't spare him.

I need to kill Cato.


	3. Chapter 2

"Cato, can I have moment alone with you?"

He nods and reluctantly draws back his arm that's been resting around Glimmer's shoulder, although she's sitting directly in front of the fire. Oh, how I hate her! I hate her so much I could… I could…

One quick movement and I sink my knife in a branch on the forest floor right next to her. Glimmer shrieks, and I have to keep myself from laughing. Nothing wrong with a bit of fun, is it?

"Can't you watch out, idiot?" Glimmer hisses at me. "You've almost hit me!"

"Right", I answer dryly. "Almost."

"Seriously, Clove", Cato interrupts. "What was that for?"

I cross my arms in front of my chest. "I thought I'd seen something… a rat maybe."

"Liar", Glimmer replies, sounding as arrogant as always.

"Oh, is that a squirrel right behind your head?" I shoot back, quickly pulling out another knife from my belt.

"Stop it, girls!" Marvel protests from the other side of the fire. "You're really annoying."

"No, _she's _really annoying", Glimmer corrects him.

I roll my eyes at her and turn to Cato again. "Are you coming?"

"Sure."

I lead the way through the underbrush until I'm sure none of the other three will overhear our conversation. You wonder who's the third in our alliance? Well, it's the boy from Twelve, but we only call him Lover Boy.

"You're strange, you know that?" Cato tells me when we've come to a stop.

"Why? Because I wanted to find us something to eat?" I reply.

"You didn't see any rat", Cato says. "You wanted to attack her."

"So what? We're Careers. It's not my fault she can't protect herself."

Cato sighs, obviously remarking that there's no point in arguing with me. "What did you want to talk about, then?" he asks.

"Lover Boy." I shoot a glance toward our fire that's flickering through the darkness of the forest.

Cato looks at me expectantly, so I go on. "We should kill him, don't you think?"

"No", he answers immediately. "The others are right; we need him to find the girl."

"What about our plan? We're supposed to kill the other tributes at first sight, remember?"

"I don't care what we're supposed to do", Cato growls. "As long as everyone else is dead at the end, no one will care about Lover Boy."

I examine the expression on Cato's face, but it's too dark to see anything except his eyes. They're gray and fixated on me.

"It'll be harder to kill the girl when he's with us", I protest. "He'll help her."

Cato lets out a condemnatory grunt. "Are you serious, Clove? Four Careers against two little kids from Twelve; how can you even doubt we'll win?"

My hands begin to tremble out of anger. I clench both fists and take a deep breath. "Come on, Cato!" I hiss. "You know we should kill him! _You know it!"_

"No!" He turns around for a moment, tearing his hair and kicking at a stone in front of him. "We'll do what Glimmer and Marvel say, okay?"

I'm losing control of myself, I can feel it. But I can't hold back what I'm going to do now, although it's probably a stupid idea. It'll provoke a fight… or worse. And I honestly don't want to fight with Cato, not here while the others are waiting for us at the fire.

Unfortunately, my hands are faster than my mind is. I step forth and shove Cato hard. He stumbles backward but catches himself just in time.

_"Have you lost your mind or something?" _he yells at me, his voice full of hatred. He's so loud that I fear the others might hear us, even from the distance.

"You're the one who went insane over that girl!" I shout back. "Why do we always have to do what _she_ says?"

Silence.

Cato seems to think about something. I've just started to feel sorry for shoving him when he says: "This isn't about Lover Boy, is it? You only want to kill him because it would bother _her._"

He nods, convinced by his theory. "It's all about Glimmer."

I could tell him that he's absolutely right, that I don't care if Lover Boy dies now or later, that the only person I want to see dead as soon as possible is her. But if I said that, Cato would probably attack me. If he understood that I _hate _her, hate her like none of the other tributes, hate her like I've never hated anybody before, he wouldn't hesitate to kill me.

Because he's totally obsessed with her.

And there it is again, the pain in my chest. The mixture of sadness, anger and disappointment. I've felt it almost all of the time since the Games have begun. Every night we've been spending at the fire, with Cato's arm around Glimmer's shoulders or worse, around her waist, I've felt like someone was stabbing me. Stabbing me right through the heart.

"That's stupid, Clove." Cato's voice calls me back to reality.

"No, you don't understand", I protest weakly. "I don't like Glimmer, but… this is not about her. I just want to win the Games."

"Same here", Cato says. "So, what's the problem with Lover Boy? If he doesn't die now, he'll die later."

He's right, of course.

Lover Boy's death is sure, just as sure as that of the other tributes, including Glimmer. However, I would still prefer seeing her dead right now. It would certainly calm me down to have her out of the way. Even if that meant I'd have to fight Cato next…

Some tiny, stupid part of me thinks that it might be better to die from Glimmer's hands than compete against Cato in a final battle. It doesn't even matter who would win, or if Cato would finally kill me. It's the fight itself. I don't care if it's Cato or Glimmer who kills me because, in the end, I will be dead either way.

But I'm not willing to fight Cato, whereas I feel the greatest wish to have a bloody fight against Glimmer. Just the imagination of her agonized face, distorted from my knives, stimulates me.

The thing is, if it comes to a fight between Cato and me, I'll have to hurt him as well, like I'd do it with Glimmer. It's the desire to see your opponent dead that defines a real fight. That's one of the main aspects we learned in the academy back in District Two. So, if everyone else happens to be dead, there's only one possibility for us to go on: a fight. Cato wants to win, I want to win – only one of us can be victor. That's how it is in the Hunger Games.

I know he'll come for me when we're the only ones left in the arena. And if I don't fight back, he's going to kill me. But I don't want to lose, and I certainly don't want to die as a weakling. I swore myself long ago that if I should ever get the honor to volunteer for the Hunger Games, I would do _anything _to win. I would never die without a fight.

"Are you even listening to me?" I hear Cato ask. His voice sounds as if he was far away; almost like an echo.

I look at him, startled. "What did you say?"

"That we better rejoin the others", he repeats. If it weren't too dark to see his face, I think I'd probably see him frowning. There's concern in his voice, anyway.

"If you say so", I murmur.

"Clove, you're behaving like a complete idiot!" Cato replies. "Just come back with me and try not to kill Glimmer with your knives, okay?"

"Eventually, we'll have to kill her", I say. "But if she's that important to you, I'll wait until then."

"She's not _important _to me." The concern in his voice has given way to a new wave of anger. "I try to have a bit of fun until we find Lover Boy's little friend, that's all."

I really want to believe that, but I can't. This is Cato; it's obvious that he's lying.

"So you'll stop flirting with her when we're busier killing people?" I ask provokingly.

"I'm not flirting with her, all right? You're just jealous."

"Jealous?" I gasp for air. "Come on, Cato! We're all going to die! There's no time for jealousy or anything like that… It's ridiculous; all I'm saying is that she's really annoying!"

Cato throws an angry look at me, a look that also says: _Be careful with your words, Clove. The Capitol hears everything._

I swallow and avert my gaze, but I have to admit once again that he's right. It's dangerous to say what you really think in an arena full of cameras. Even in District Two, people know what happens to their family if they start opposing the Capitol. I can only hope that the Gamemakers won't take my words too serious.

"Okay. Whatever." My voice is suddenly no more than a whisper.

I think Cato's frowning, but I don't wait for his reaction. I take a step in the direction we came from, the direction of the fire that's lighting the darkness. Cato follows me quietly.

After a few steps, I hear Glimmer's laughter and I stop for a second. I don't want to go back to her. I don't want to be in this alliance any longer. I don't need Lover Boy to find Katniss.

"Clove?"

I turn around and face Cato. His face is a bit lighter now, so I can see the concern I've already heard moments ago, and it almost keeps me from saying what I've decided to say. Almost.

"I'll quit", I announce, my voice determined. "I give you twenty-four hours, and if Lover Boy hasn't led us to the girl until then, I'll be gone."

Cato nods slowly. "All right", he says. "Deal."


	4. Chapter 3

I really don't want to leave Cato, but I can't bear having Glimmer around me any longer. That's why I'm so deeply relieved when we find Katniss at the river. I can't wait to kill Glimmer, but Katniss and Lover Boy need to die first.

As soon as I've spotted her in the water, I run for her as fast as I can. It's ridiculous, because I'm actually hunting her so I can kill Glimmer. But then again, it doesn't matter. They're all going to die, sooner or later.

Hell, why is she already out of the water? I see her braid disappear between the trees and I push myself further, the adrenaline slowly taking control of my body.

I feel branches against my skin while I rush through the forest; branches in my face and under my feet. Branches and stones and leaves, threatening to make me trip, but I won't lose my prey. Not now.

For a few seconds, I completely forget about the others. I don't hear a thing except my own breathing and the heavy beat of my heart. This is how the Hunger Games are supposed to feel.

Then I spot Katniss climbing onto a nearby tree, and I stop immediately.

"You have to be kidding me", I hear Glimmer curse next to me.

Cato doesn't even come to a stop. He runs past me and starts to follow Katniss, his hands gripping for branches thick enough to carry his weight. One false move and he lands on the ground, while Katniss has already reached the top of the tree.

I want to order Lover Boy to get her down, but Glimmer is faster. "I'll shoot her."

Cato is on his feet again, watching Glimmer how she pulls out an arrow and aims at Katniss. Of course, she misses her. After the second arrow has landed somewhere in the underbrush, she gives up.

I'm beginning to feel frustrated.

We have to get her down.

We have to kill her.

To my surprise, it's Lover Boy who comes up with a plan: We'll just wait until she needs to come down because she's hungry or anything, and then we'll kill her. Either that, or she'll die from starvation in a lonely tree top.

The only disadvantage is that we have to kill our time until she comes down. All we can do is sit by and wait, and that's pretty boring. So boring that Cato has to enjoy himself with Glimmer once again.

I offer to gather some wood for the fire.

When I come back, the sun is already setting and it's starting to get cold. Marvel has found a pocketful of berries and mushrooms, but I don't think that'll be enough for dinner. Anyway, as long as I got my knives, I'll always find something to eat. I just have to concentrate on the forest floor instead of Cato and Glimmer on the other side of the fire…

I sigh. She's giggling again.

I can't say how long it takes until the fire starts fading. Marvel offers to keep watch, but we know he's going to sleep like the rest of us. We're the Careers; the bad ones in this game. We can do whatever we want. When we feel tired, we sleep. Who of the other tributes would attack us? You must be insane to do that.

Before I cuddle up in the leaves, I see Glimmer resting her head on Cato's chest. His fingers are playing with her hair. It's beautiful, like gold, like a fake promise of honesty and happiness.

_Stop it, Cato!_ I want to yell. _She isn't good enough for you. She isn't worth it –_

But in a way, she is. She's probably prettier than I'll ever be, with her big eyes and those long lashes and porcelain skin, her perfect face framed by soft strands of golden hair… and that smile of hers, brilliant and sweet.

It can still hurt to hear her laugh, more than being stabbed by a thousand knives. More than dying.

If it weren't for my pride, I'd just offer her to kill me, right here in front of Cato's eyes. Maybe he wouldn't even watch because he knew from the beginning that I wouldn't make it. But I want to believe he would be sad if I died, that he would cry for me and realize he actually liked me a lot more than Glimmer.

Dreams. Stupid, ridiculous dreams. Wishes, never to be fulfilled.

If I died, Cato wouldn't even care.

* * *

I wake from the sound of humming. I'm still  
half asleep, but it sounds like bees. Only they sound angry.

I open my eyes and there they are: Tracker-jackers. Everywhere.

Screaming, I jump to my feet and run, run, run…

* * *

Glimmer is dead.

We heard the cannon and I caught myself hoping it would be her, whereas Cato and Marvel were hoping for Lover Boy or the girl. But when we come back to the tree, she's gone, already carried away by the hovercraft.

I feel dizzy from all the tracker-jacker venom in my blood. We turned around when the cannon was fired, but I could hardly make it back without tripping. Sometimes I just caught hold of Cato's shoulder and he managed to keep me on my feet, half dragging me over the uneven forest floor.

The only thing I can understand is that Glimmer is dead.

I hear a distant noise, a _human _noise that isn't coming from Cato or Marvel. There must be someone else, but I can't make out who it is. Everything sounds like I'm underwater. My mind is spinning around and around and around, my eyes searching for a human figure between the trees, but it's futile.

I grab for Cato's arm in front of me to steady myself. He starts running, pulling me along for a few steps before he lets go and I have to fight hard to stay afoot.

Who is he running for?

I try to call his name, but it comes out as a blurred whisper.

I wipe my eyes and follow him with my gaze. Cato is yelling something to the other person, yelling and kicking and swinging his sword. I hear his victim gasp in agony. Somebody is falling to the ground, but I can't tell if it's Cato or the other one.

I close my eyes for a moment. My whole body hurts like hell, and I can't form even one clear thought.

When I open my eyes again, there's Cato, running for me and Marvel.

"I got him", he stammers. "Lover Boy."

Lover Boy. So it was him. But if he's dead, where is… "Cannon", I get out.

I didn't hear the cannon.

Cato looks over his shoulder at the spot where they just fought. I push past him and stumble forward, but I don't get very far before I fall onto my knees. My fingers feel for something among the branches and leaves; my eyes are searching desperately for a dead body. Maybe it's just because of my blurred vision, but I don't find anything.

"He escaped", I hear Marvel state from above. "Well done, Cato!"

I look up and see Cato shoving him backward. "Shut up!"

"Stop it", I mutter. I want to say that it'll be all right, that we'll find him, that he can't have gone too far, but I don't get out another word.

Cato sinks down against a nearby trunk. One moment later, I feel his hand on my shoulder.

"Come here, Clove", he babbles and pats the spot next to him.

Without thinking, I drag myself over to him. I lean my back against the trunk and close my eyes, focusing on my breathing. Deep breaths, in and out.

Cato's arm is around my waist, pulling me closer. I rest my head on his shoulder.

"We'll get them", I hear Cato whisper before unconsciousness is overwhelming me. "We'll hunt them all down."


	5. Chapter 4

We haven't spoken a word about Glimmer since she died. It's like she never even existed.

I should be happy about that, shouldn't I?

Instead, I keep worrying about Marvel. There aren't many tributes left, and soon we'll have to find a way to get rid of him. As much as I know, there's Lover Boy and his friend from Twelve, the giant and the little girl from Eleven, the red-haired whose District I can't remember and the boy who helped setting the trap around our supplies. That makes nine, the three of us included.

I decide to talk to Cato as soon as I get the chance. Which is at the same night, after Marvel has fallen asleep. I can't possibly rest with him snoring next to me… and Cato is awake, too. He's sitting at the fireplace, stirring the dying ashes with a long branch.

The boy who was stupid enough to help us is keeping watch at the other side of the supply pyramid. I wonder why he joined us in the first place. It's obvious that we're going to kill him right after we're done with the other remaining tributes. Maybe he just hoped to live a bit longer. Or maybe he thought we wouldn't be that cruel if he helped us…

Whatever. I don't give a damn about that boy. It's Marvel we need to pay attention to.

I straighten up and stretch my numb limbs. "Hey, Cato", I whisper.

He turns around. "I thought you were sleeping."

"Do you really think that's possible, next to _him?"_ I ask with a smile. Marvel lets out a grunt as if he wanted to support my point.

Cato laughs. "Yeah, right. Why don't you come over here?"

I crawl over to him and pull my knees up to my chest. I wish the fire was still burning, because I'm chilled to the bone. _Do you do that on purpose, Gamemakers? Do you think that's funny?_

"I couldn't sleep because of those damn stitches", Cato explains.

I look at his profile. The left half of his face is still a bit swollen. We've tried everything that came to our mind to ease the pain of the tracker-jacker venom, but nothing has worked so far.

Cato faces me and our eyes meet for a split second. "How are you?" he asks quietly.

"Better", I reply, averting my gaze. _Better, but still far from good._

Is that the reason why we need the boy to help us? Because we're too silly to figure out how to treat tracker-jacker stitches? Because we're too weak and vulnerable from the venom to protect the supplies ourselves?

It doesn't feel good to depend on that boy's help, anyway.

"We need to talk", I tell Cato with a serious undertone to my voice.

He frowns at me. "Talk about what?"

I shoot a quick look over my shoulder, just to be sure. "Marvel", I say under my breath.

"Marvel?"

"Well…", I begin, taking a deep breath. "Don't you think we should get rid of him soon?"

Cato studies my expression before he answers, as if he couldn't believe I'm serious.

"We need him to kill the others", he says then. "First of all, the boy has to die." He mentions over to the supply pyramid. "And Lover Boy's next. That'll be a bloody revenge."

He grins, but I just sigh. "No, Cato, I mean it. Marvel might become a danger if we wait too long."

"A danger? Come on!" Cato protests. "It's us against him. We can kill him easily, at any time we want. And besides, Glimmer just died. That'll be enough for a while, okay?"

Did he say… did he say her name?

I stare at Cato in surprise.

"What?" He seems totally confused. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing." I quickly wave it off, but inside, I feel wrecked.

Not even in my dreams, I would have thought that Cato – the cold, emotionless killing machine Cato – could be able to, well, _mourn _somebody's death. But that's what he does, obviously. That's why he's never mentioned her name since she died, and that's why he doesn't agree on killing Marvel.

He can't go on yet, because he's still thinking about Glimmer.

Part of me thinks: _You decided you'd have to kill him. He's hurt. He's vulnerable. This is the perfect time to do it. _I hate that part of me.

The other part says: _He shouldn't be concerned by a simple death… That girl has to be important to him. More important than you'll ever be. _I think I hate that part, too.

Where is the part of me that was so overly happy to be a tribute in the Hunger Games? The part whose dream had finally come true? Does it even exist anymore?

Okay, here's what we learned at the academy: Whatever may happen, always stay calm.

_Stay calm, _I tell myself, repeating it over and over in my head. _Maybe you're just overreacting. What did he say again?_

He said that Glimmer's death was enough for a while. That means he's not over it yet, doesn't it? It means he'll need some time to leave Glimmer and every thought of her behind… which, again, means that she's important to him. Too important to be forgotten right away.

"Clove, what's your problem?" I hear Cato ask. "Why are you acting like that?"

"Like what?"

"Every time I bring _her _up, you're getting upset."

"Glimmer?" I grind my teeth. "That's ridiculous."

Cato is rolling his eyes at me. "It's really ridiculous, okay? I don't know why you hated her that much, but she's dead, anyway! So what's your problem?"

He wants to know my problem? Well, to tell the truth: it's him. But of course, I can't say that.

"There is no problem", I reply. "I suggest we forget about Glimmer and think of Marvel instead."

"I told you, we still need him." Cato sounds bored, which is only making me angrier.

"To kill the other tributes? We can do that without him. Hell, we're Careers!"

"It'll be easier with him."

"But harder afterwards." I gesture toward Marvel's sleeping figure. "Think about it, Cato. Imagine I'd just go over and stab him with a knife. He'd be dead in an instant."

Cato snorts. "No."

"Very convincing", I mutter. "I just wanted to spare us some trouble. I'm always up for a good fight, you know that, but it would still be cleverer to kill him right now."

"What do you think is so dangerous about him?" Cato wants to know. "I mean, he's all alone if it comes to a fight. How could he cause any trouble, in your opinion?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Many things can happen in a fight. One of us getting hurt, for example."

"And if I got hurt, wouldn't that be good for you?" Cato insists.

_Why? _I want to ask, but I already know the answer. _Because he'd be easier to kill then._

"And what if I didn't want to kill you?" I whisper without looking at him. "What if I was sad about you getting hurt?"

I know Cato is staring at me, but I won't look up. I don't want to meet his eyes, don't want to see the reproachful look on his face. He probably wonders how I came to be that stupid. Maybe he wonders what happened to the Clove he knew, the Clove who did what was necessary to win, the Clove who never thought twice about killing innocent people.

Maybe he liked me better the way I was before. Before I developed those _feelings _whenever I'm around him. But I just can't help it.

"You know, we can still split up if you don't like the plan", Cato says. "I'll stay with Marvel and when we've killed everybody else, I finish him off alone. That way, you can't get hurt."

"Do you think I'm afraid?" I shake my head in disgust. "Splitting up is no option."

"I didn't say you were afraid", Cato replies. "But you said you were concerned about getting hurt… so why not letting me deal with Marvel on my own?"

"That was never part of the plan", I protest. "Think about what our mentors said –"

Cato throws the branch away and clenches his fist. "Can you see them anywhere, our mentors? No! As long as we're in the arena, we can do whatever we want, okay? They won't care; maybe they don't even remember the plan they've taught us!"

"Calm down, Cato", I hiss at him. "You don't need to get aggressive because Twelve killed your lovely friend –"

"This has nothing to do with Glimmer!" Cato yells, jumping to his feet. "This is about _you_, don't you understand? I'm just trying to take care of _you!_ I suggested we split up so _you_ wouldn't get hurt! I've always tried to do what's best for –"

"For me?" I laugh. "Spare your words, Cato. You've never listened to me, not even once, when I came up with an idea! And you were flirting with Glimmer like all the time… You never gave a damn about me!"

"I told you, I just wanted some fun", Cato says as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"In the end, one of us has to die anyway", I whisper, more to myself than to him.

"Right", he states. "And where's your plan for that? You see, there isn't one! Because our mentors weren't straight enough to tell us what would happen after we've killed everyone else! Do you still trust their strategy, Clove?"

"They didn't tell us because it was so obvious", I answer. "We've always known there can only be one victor. We've known that one of us was going to die!"

"Killed by the other one", Cato adds quietly and sinks to his knees again.

We both remain silent for a while. There's nothing except the sound of the night, the humming and crawling and flitting of the darkness around us.

I don't dare look at Cato. We're sitting so close to each other, but still I feel like I'm drifting in a different dimension. It's him who finally breaks the silence.

"We have to make the best of it", he says. "When the time has come, we'll see who's going to win. We'll fight it out like real Careers."

"Sure", I agree, because there's just nothing else we can do. "But we have to pay attention to Marvel. We kill him first thing after we've finished off Lover Boy and his friend."

Cato nods. Then he offers me his hand. "I know Careers should never make promises, but… I guess I can make an exception. You have my word, Clove."


	6. Chapter 5

The problem with Marvel is out of the way, too.

Lover Boy's friend shot him. Marvel killed her little ally, the girl from Eleven, though. And Cato killed the boy who was supposed to keep watch at the supply pyramid.

There had been a fire and we were gone to hunt the ones who'd set it when Katniss blew up our supplies. We'd left the boy there to keep watch, and she blew up the whole pyramid in front of his eyes! Cato and I ran back as soon as we heard the explosion. Marvel stayed in the woods, searching for other tributes.

When we reached our camp, Cato realized immediately what was going on and didn't hesitate to break the boy's neck. Then we headed back to the place where we left Marvel. We heard a cannon shot and, shortly after, another one.

Marvel was gone when we arrived. They showed his picture at nightfall, along with the little girl's.

That leaves me with an overly aggressive Cato. He couldn't wait to hunt down Katniss and Lover Boy, and the giant from Eleven who's also still alive. Apart from them, there is only the red-haired girl from Five who will be easy to kill.

I had to convince Cato to find a new hideout first, at least for the night. We gathered all the supplies that weren't destroyed and searched for a place to sleep, but ended up in the underbrush at the edge of the woods. I was tired and Cato thought it was better than nothing, because we could observe the open terrain and see whenever one of the other tributes crossed it. I doubt that one of them will, though.

We agreed on taking turns with the watch. Cato let me sleep first and woke me after about three hours.

And now I'm sitting here, trying to keep my eyes open. Nobody's crossed the open area yet. I can see nothing but the shapes of trees in front of a starless sky.

We'll start hunting down the others tomorrow. Cato thinks we should search for Lover Boy first, because he must still be hurt from their fight. Even under the influence of tracker-jacker venom, Cato has certainly inflicted some grave injuries on him. He must be weak; probably hiding out somewhere and waiting for his strength to recover.

I think Katniss will be the next, and then Five. Thresh will be the hardest one to kill, in my opinion. He's quite strong and he must be angry because Marvel killed his District partner. Another thing we learned at the academy: Strength and anger is a mixture that shouldn't be underestimated!

"Never underestimate your enemies", I whisper into the darkness.

Careers often tend to deal frivolously with their opponents in the arena, and that's been their doom more than once. I don't want to die because of my arrogance. I need to stay realistic if I want to win.

Does Cato know that, too? Sometimes, I think he's too sure of his victory. I've tried to warn him, to remind him of the words we were told at the academy, but he didn't listen. His arrogance is what defines him, what makes him the person he is, but it can still be dangerous. I just don't want him to die in shame.

If the night weren't so dark, I would probably spend most of my time watching Cato instead of the open area in front of me. He's sleeping a few steps away, cuddled up on a thick layer of leaves, his head resting on the backpack we always carry with us. He's breathing calmly, and somehow that's more soothing than anything else here in the arena. More soothing than the silence of the night or the fact that we're both still alive.

Things don't stand too bad for us, do they?

Eighteen dead, four to go. And then Cato. The final moment moves closer and closer. I've already made my decision: I need to kill him. I'm not happy about it, but it's a burden I need to take.

Maybe the pain will fade as soon as I'm over it. When everything's over, when Cato is dead and I am crowned victor of the 74th Hunger Games, maybe I won't remember a thing. I will live in glory and fame for the rest of my life and be an example for all the tributes that come after me.

Maybe Cato will be gone and forgotten as soon as I've left the arena. I really hope that it will be like this. Otherwise…

Otherwise, I'll think about him day and night. I'll think about the moment I cut his throat with a knife. That's what I figured out to kill him, because it won't make him suffer. He'll be dead immediately.

Why does this moment have to come? Why does it have to be here this soon?

"Never question the act of killing", I repeat another rule from the academy to calm myself down. "Never fear it."

"What did you say?" a sleepy voice murmurs from behind me.

"Cato." I turn and find him straightening up on his leaves. Did he know that I've been thinking about him? Did he _feel _it?

"We're on the home stretch and I tried to remember some rules that might be important… you know, to win", I explain.

Cato sighs. "Why don't you simply forget about those rules?" he asks. "They're stupid, anyway."

"But they help you win", I reply. "There are only six of us left, Cato. We can't risk making any mistakes now."

"And is it a mistake not to follow the rules? I don't think so."

I don't answer. I don't have the strength to discuss with him right now, so I just stare into the darkness and wait until Cato lies down again.

In this moment, the Claudius Templesmith's voice booms through the arena, making Cato and me cringe in surprise. "Attention, tributes!" he calls out. "There's been a rule change."

My eyes meet Cato's, but it's like we're looking right through one another. I'm too eager to hear Claudius' announcement to be distracted by the grayness of Cato's eyes now.

When Claudius' impressive voice goes on, though, I just can't trust my ears. Did he really say what I think he did? Did he say that… two tributes can win the Games if they're both from the same District?

My vision sharpens and I look at Cato; I look at him like I've never done before.

Cato and I, both from District Two. This feels too good to be true.

I hear Claudius' words echo in my head. He said it. He said we could both win, together.

This is awesome! I mean, it would be awesome, if it were true. But part of me just doesn't want to believe it.

Everything about this announcement seems like a trap. Why would the Gamemakers want both Cato and me to win? Why would they want us to be _happy?_

They should've enjoyed that last decisive battle between the two of us. That's what they call amusement in the Capitol. That's what thousands of citizens want to see!

I raise one eyebrow at Cato, asking him silently if he's heard the same, and if he believes the words to be true. He nods.

In less than a second, I am lying in his arms, my head resting against his chest. I feel Cato's arms around my body, feel his steady breathing and the vivid beat of his heart. I feel his lips close to my ear, whispering: "We'll be victors, Clove! Both of us."

I also feel Cato's hand wandering down my back, and suddenly I can't help but think of Glimmer. Isn't that what Cato did with her when he was "having a bit of fun"? When they were talking, before the interviews, his hand did exactly the same.

For a moment, I'm tempted to pull back from his embrace and shove him away. I could tell him that I'm not the right person to have fun with, because I like him way too much for that.

But I don't.

All that matters is the announcement, the declaration of our victory.

Cato and me. I can hardly trust those words, but if he does…

"We'll set off at dawn", I whisper into Cato's chest, just loud enough for him to hear. "We'll find them and kill them and then we'll go home."

And we'll live together in Victor's Village. We'll be neighbors for the rest of our lives. We'll have all the time of the world to get to know each other. Who knows how things will end up between us?

"Four of those little weaklings against the two of us", Cato states. Even though I can't see his face, I can practically sense the smile on his lips. "They won't stand a chance! It'll be as easy as stealing a lolly from an infant."

"Of course it will." I smile brightly at the thought of our victory.

Everything will be okay. More than okay, after all! I couldn't have imagined better Games. Well, without Glimmer maybe… But she's dead. In less than a year, she'll be forgotten. And I'll be living next to Cato for as long as I live.

After what seems like an eternity, Cato pulls away from me, his eyes steady on mine. There's a spark in them I've never noticed before.

"Should I go on with the watch?" he offers. "It's your turn resting now."

I nod, even though I'm probably too excited to find any rest. But I'll need it for our hunt tomorrow.

It'll be our big day. Maybe we can kill all four, and tomorrow we'll already be on our way out…

I feel like I'm at the reaping again; like I'm waiting on stage, watching Cato as he climbs up with that impressive smile of his. I feel like I could embrace every single person in the crowd.

"What are you thinking about?" Cato wants to know. "You're grinning all the time –"

"Nothing!" I say quickly and lay down on the leaves. "Good night, Cato."

"Yeah, sleep well." Cato takes his place a few feet away with his back on me. As I position my head on the backpack, the conversation we started before the announcement pops up in my memory and I have to smile once again.

"Cato?" I murmur with my eyes already half shut.

He turns around. "What?"

"Do you still think it's a mistake to follow the rules?"

He sighs and shakes his head, but apart from that, I don't get an answer. And I'll probably never get one.


	7. Chapter 6

"Damn, Cato! Stop it!" I yell for what seems like the hundredth time. "Wait for me!"

Cato just throws an annoyed look over his shoulder. "I told you, we've got to find them before sunset!"

"And why?" I ask in frustration. "We've been searching all day! I'm tired, Cato –"

"Then sit down and rest", Cato hisses back. "Go ahead. Let me do all the dirty work while you're taking a break."

I tear my hair. "Spare me your comments, okay? Why on earth do we have to find them _now?"_

Cato sighs.

He's stopped rushing through the woods like a rabid animal searching for its prey. Probably he has finally understood that it's futile to go on. I've told him to stop for about half an hour, but he wouldn't listen to me. For some reason, he is desperate to kill the other tributes before nightfall.

"We haven't eaten since…" Since our supplies were blown up, but I don't want to say that. Cato would only get more aggressive, more eager to kill someone.

"Why don't we look for something to eat?" I suggest cautiously. "And we'll need water soon if we don't want to dehydrate. Killing those weaklings can wait until tomorrow, don't you think?"

He looks at me as if he wanted to punch me in the face. "No, it can't wait!" he bellows. "Don't be such an idiot, Clove!"

"But you're the one being idiotic!"

When Cato starts walking in my direction, I move back instinctively. Is he trying to hit me? Maybe even… to kill me?

I grab a knife from my belt and prepare myself to pull it out at the slightest move. Cato's eyes follow my hand.

"Let go of that knife", he snarls. "I won't try to kill you, okay?"

I look at him, trying to figure out if he's telling the truth. My grip around the knife tightens. I could stab him in less than a second.

Cato reaches for his sword, and I feel my whole body tense up. But much to my surprise, he drops the weapon to the ground and lifts his hands as if to prove his innocence.

"If I wanted to kill you, you would know", he says. "Now let go of that knife."

I pull my hand back reluctantly. Cato steps closer; so close that our faces are only inches apart. I suck in a deep breath as he moves his head forward. His mouth is as close to my ear as it can be.

"We need to find them before the Gamemakers get impatient", he whispers. "Before they can figure out some stupid plan to speed up things."

Cato takes his sword from the ground and steps back without looking at me. I try hard not to seem too surprised. The Gamemakers can see everything that's going on in the arena. It's certain that somebody is watching me at that exact moment, so I have to seem normal. As if Cato told me something completely unspectacular.

"You're right", I tell him. "I get that. But we still need to eat something."

"Yeah, we'll find something after we've found him", Cato replies. "Lover Boy is recovering with every day. It'll spare us a lot of trouble if we find him when he's still weak."

"And where should we look for him, in your opinion? He wasn't at the river, and we've already been through half of the woods. That's enough for one day!"

Cato crosses his arms in front of his chest. If looks could kill, I'd probably be dead by now. "That's ridiculous, Clove", he says cold-heartedly.

"I'm not coming before we found something to eat, or at least some water. And I want a few minutes to rest."

"Didn't you listen to me?" Cato asks, clenching his fists in desperation. "It's _important _that we find them as soon as possible!"

"We can still find them today, Cato! I'm only asking for a short break."

"Hell, you're so unprofessional", he complains. "We're Careers! We're the strong ones in this game, remember? Don't be such a softy!"

I would love to slash at him right now, but I have to keep control over myself. This is not the time for an emotional breakdown.

"At least I'm not the one who's going to die from dehydration like an amateur!" I shoot back. "I can't believe we're even having that discussion –"

"I can't believe we haven't separated yet!" Cato yells, punching his fist into a nearby tree. "If it weren't for that stupid rule change, I would've got rid of you long ago!"

"Okay then, let's split up!" I cry out. "Or better, why don't you just kill me? Forget about the rule change! Nobody said we _had _to win together!"

Tears are welling up in my eyes; tears I can't hold back, no matter how hard I try. Maybe Cato's right and I'm being a softy.

In District Two, every child is taught that Careers don't cry. I've learned that from my mother when I was five years old. "Don't even think about crying if you want to be a tribute one day", she said. "Real Careers never cry." Back then, I could hardly believe her. Everybody needs to cry sometimes, I thought. Maybe Careers are just really good at hiding their tears so nobody has ever caught them crying.

If that's true, I guess I've never been a real Career. I've cried a couple of times during my childhood, mostly because some of the elder boys in my neighborhood bullied me at every opportunity. I've never cried because I was unhappy at the academy, though. I've always liked training, and I've always seen it as a chance to take revenge, to show everybody how strong I really am.

Now I can forget about that, too. I imagine my family watching the Games right now, my family and everybody else in my neighborhood, everybody in District Two and all over Panem watching me cry.

It only makes me cry harder. I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my face with both hands.

I don't even know how it started. Probably it was the thought of Cato killing me, or worse, the thought of him hating me so much that he would kill me without further hesitation. He would break my neck like he broke the boy's after the explosion of our supplies…

Everything inside me hurts so much. Cato calling me unprofessional, calling me a weakling and telling me he doesn't want to be with me any longer despite the rule change; the pain his words caused inside of me is worse than that of a thousand knives. No weapon would be able to cause a pain as great as this.

I try to swallow down the tears. I take a few deep breaths and gather all my strength to stop myself from shaking. Then I pull back my hands.

Cato is standing at the exact spot, motionless, as if he was rooted right there.

"Come and kill me", I repeat, my voice as steady as possible. "If that's what you want to do, I'm not going to stand in your way."

Fresh tears are blurring my vision, but I don't close my eyes. I feel them running down my cheeks as I look at Cato, expecting him to pull out his sword and come for me. He doesn't move, though.

He just stares at me in astonishment. Eventually, he shakes his head as if he wanted to drive away some annoying thought.

He finally starts walking. I observe every step he takes and I try to feel nothing, but the emotions are overwhelming me like a wave of irresistible extends.

This is the moment. He's going to kill me. Cato is going to kill me.

Didn't I promise myself to finish him off first?

_Go ahead, Clove. Do it. It's easy. How many throats have you already cut? I've stopped counting._

Yeah, how many throats have I already cut? But it's different with Cato. He's not some faceless, anonymous creature I don't give a damn about. No, Cato means something to me.

And that's why I can't simply reach for my knife and cut his throat. I could never kill him, even if I wanted to.

_Well, he can, darling. You'll be dead in the blink of an eye._

So be it. Cato and I weren't meant to be, but that's okay.

I force myself to keep my eyes open as he comes closer. He hasn't pulled out his sword yet. Is he going to strangle me?

I focus on my breathing and tell myself that it's okay. Everybody in Panem has seen me cry. I'm already a weakling, so it doesn't matter what kind of death I'll have. Even if I won the Games now, I could never restore my family's lost honor. It's over now. This is the end.

Cato looks so perfect, I think. I will never forget the way his hair reflects the sunlight like a mirror, or the way his gray eyes are staring into the distance…

I'm surprised to find no trace of bloodlust in his gaze. Yeah, he seems almost peaceful if you take a closer look.

And then, suddenly, our eyes meet and I see all those emotions: desperation, worry, empathy, guilt. Cato reaches out his hands. I let out a deep sigh while his fingers are wandering down the length of my arm. It feels right, somehow. It makes me forget about my tears and the images in my mind. Everything's gone; blown away by the wind.

"Come here", I hear Cato's soothing voice. "Sit down. We'll have a few minutes."

He makes me sit down on a big rock and crouches down right in front of me, his hands resting on my knees.

"You didn't seriously think I would kill you", he whispers. "Did you?"

I need all my concentration to hold back more tears, so I don't answer. My expression seems to be enough of an answer, though.

"Did you really think I would do that?" Cato goes on. "Now that we both could win? Never, Clove. We'll go home together."

"I can't", I get out. "Everybody's seen me cry. My family –"

"Don't worry about that", Cato interrupts me. "They'll be okay. They'll be happy to see you!"

"They won't."

Cato sighs. "How about finding something to eat?" he asks, changing the subject. "I have to admit I'm pretty hungry, too."

Before I have the chance to answer, I feel his thumb on my cheek, wiping away the tears. "Stop that now", he whispers, his voice almost reproachful. "Are you gonna come?"

"Sure", I reply.


	8. Chapter 7

By the time we arrive at the river, we are both pretty dehydrated. It is already dark, so when we are done drinking, we have to hurry to find something to eat. I try to catch some fish in the water, but they are too fast.

Cato's plan to hunt some small animals in the woods doesn't show much success, either. We keep searching until it is too dark to see anything at all. Before we end up in the middle of the woods in complete blackness, Cato discovers a group of bushes carrying tiny red berries. He's sure they aren't nightlock, so we both gather a handful and pitch our camp next to the bushes.

I'm so hungry I gulp all of my berries right away. Cato does the same. It isn't much, but at least my stomach feels a bit less empty.

Somehow, it seems awkward to sit in the darkness with Cato, probably because we haven't spoken a word since our argument. After a couple of minutes, he tells me he'd take the first shift and I cuddle up on the ground without answering him.

I dream about the dinner at the mayor's house in District Two my family and I once attended. The table was filled with every sort of meal I could imagine, and I ate until I was almost bursting. In my dream, I swear myself to have a dinner as big as that to celebrate my victory.

When Cato wakes me, I don't feel hungry anymore. There's just some strange rumbling in my stomach that I can't explain. I decide to ignore it and spend my time thinking.

I still don't understand Cato's behavior. First he's furious, then he's comforting.

However, I know that I'm not as important to Cato as he is to me. I have the impression that he spared my life just because it is no longer necessary to kill me. I know Cato would do anything to win, but that doesn't mean he needs to take an unnecessary evil. Why kill me if he doesn't need to? He'll win either way, if I'm dead or alive. He probably just wanted to save himself the trouble of killing me.

It's the same with his comforting behavior: I guess he did it because my crying meant shame for our whole District. The only way he could keep me from crying was by comforting me, so he did what was necessary. He didn't care for me or anything; it would be pure fatuity to believe that.

As if Cato had ever cared for anybody except himself! And Glimmer, of course.

I'm really glad when the first hints of sunlight appear at the horizon. I consider gathering some more berries in case Cato is hungry when he wakes up, but then I remember our argument and quickly drop that idea.

_Would he ever prepare breakfast for you, Clove?_

No, he wouldn't. So why make an effort?

Suddenly, Cato begins to stir. I look at his figure on the ground and what I see makes my heart skip a beat: His face is all swollen as if covered with fresh tracker-jacker stitches.

I crawl over to him in panic. What's going on here?

Cato's eyelids are fluttering; his whole body's shaking. When I cautiously touch his cheek, he startles and lets out a painful moan.

"Cato", I whisper. "Cato, can you hear me?"

He opens his eyes and looks at me. I think he wants to say something, but before he gets the chance, a wave of nausea overwhelms him and he shoves me out of the way and throws up all over the forest floor.

I avert my gaze.

When Cato is done, he wipes his mouth and gasps for air. "What's happening?" I hear him say.

His eyes meet mine. I can see anger, confusion; even a trace of reproach.

"I didn't do anything", I stammer. "I swear, I have no clue what's going on! Let me take a look, okay?"

Cato doesn't answer, so I approach him and reach out for his face. As soon as my fingertip meets his swollen skin, he flinches.

"Sorry", I say under my breath.

I try it another time, but Cato turns away before my fingers can touch his face.

I think he's ashamed. I just wonder why.

He looks different, of course; distorted even. Some people would certainly call him ugly in this condition. But he's still the same person. Under those thick layers of swollen skin, there is the same Cato who's been here with me all along. Between those pus-filled bulges, the same gray eyes are glinting in the morning light.

"Hey, that's no big deal", I whisper and – whatever it is that comes over me in this moment – take his hand.

His hand that is still red from the berries… And that's when I understand.

I turn around and stare at the bushes.

"The berries", I say.

Cato looks up at me, frowning. "You think the berries did that? No way."

"Why?"

"You ate them, too. And you look perfectly normal."

Yeah, he's right. All I felt last night was a rumbling in my stomach. Intuitively, I reach for my face, but my skin is as smooth as ever. No bulges that came up overnight.

"It must've been the berries", I say. "How else are you going to explain it?"

I don't wait for Cato's reaction.

My mind is already searching feverishly for a way to help him, but unfortunately, I've never paid much attention to plants. I don't recognize those berries; neither do I know how to treat Cato's skin.

"We'll go back to the river", I suggest after a while. "Maybe the water will alleviate the swelling."

It's all I can think of, and I hope with all my will power that the water's going to help.

"If you think so." That's all Cato says. He's sounding little convinced, but I try for once to ignore his ingratitude and jump to my feet.

"It's better than doing nothing at all!" I say, my voice as determined as possible. "Come on, I'll take the backpack."

* * *

The sun has already reached its highest position when we arrive at the river.

Cato kneels down at its bank and scoops some water in his hand. I stay close to him, observing each of his moves with excitement. I watch how Cato splashes the cold water right into his face; how he shakes his head and grits his teeth and tries to suppress a curse.

"Does it hurt?" I ask cautiously, but Cato doesn't answer. He just gives me a look that says: _You bet! It hurts like hell._

"But the cold must be good for the swelling", I insist. "Maybe we have to wait a while, you know, for the effect to come –"

Cato doesn't seem to listen. While he's scooping more water, I silently curse the Gamemakers for the merciless heat. The sun is burning down at us so torridly that I feel like one of the roasted squirrels we ate on our first night in the arena. Taking a closer look at Cato, I can tell he must feel the same way. Big drops of sweat are forming on his forehead, and I'm already wondering if it's just the heat or if he's having a fever…

_Stop worrying about him. His face is a bit swollen, so what? He's not going to die from a simple swelling._

It must be my sanity that keeps talking to me every time I'm beginning to feel panicked.

The thing is, I can't tell if those berries are just causing an allergic reaction or if they're actually poisonous, maybe even deadly. They're not nightlock – if they were, we would've been dead right after we had eaten them – but nevertheless, they might be dangerous.

So I can't be sure if Cato will be fine again. I can't expect that everything will be okay if we just sit by and wait until the swelling is gone. And I seriously don't think that I'm going to see a normal-looking Cato when I open my eyes the next day.

Did the Gamemakers lead us to the berries on purpose? I'd like to tell them that this is far from funny. Or better, I'd like to stab them one by one for being so perfidious. The image of a headless Seneca Crane satisfies me for a moment, but then I turn my head to look at Cato, and the satisfaction is gone.

Cato is rubbing his face with his damp hands and I can tell it still hurts. It doesn't do any good, either. I see how the water is mixing up with his sweat and how Cato is fighting hard to control himself.

After a while, he lets his hands sink to the ground and looks at me, resignation written all over his face.

The water's had one single effect: Cato's skin is clean now. The traces of pus and blood that leaked from the bulges are gone. But the swelling is still there and still red.

"You don't feel any better, do you?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

"Do I look any better?" Cato counters.

I shake my head. "Sorry."

I want to add that we have to be patient, that the healing process can't happen in the blink of an eye, but somehow that's superfluous. Cato and I both know that this is not going to be a usual healing process. We both know that the cold of the water will have no effects on his swollen skin.

The Gamemakers are building up tension, and they're successful. As always, I should say.

I think this is the first time I really, consciously feel like a marionette. It makes me angry. So angry I'd love to throw a knife at somebody, if Cato weren't the only one around…

When I glance at him inconspicuously, I find the same anger in his eyes. Then he turns his head in my direction.

"Stop staring!" he hisses. "I know I'm looking ugly, but you should rather find a way to undo this!"

I cross my arms over my chest. "It wasn't my fault we ate those berries!" I say to protect myself, but it comes out much harder than I intended.

"So it is my own fault that I look like this now?" Cato replies, clenching his fists. "You agreed on eating the berries!"

I feel that the situation is about the get out of hand, so I force myself to remain silent. The last thing we need is another argument. Or one of us ending up crying.

"What if it weren't the berries in the first place?" Cato goes on.

"What else should it have been?" I ask.

"I don't know!" he yells. "I don't understand a thing of this shit!"

I let out a deep breath and try to think of a way to calm him down. I guess Cato's condition is worse than he admits, because there's not only anger in his voice. There's also desperation, and quite a lot of it.

"Okay, there are only four ones left to kill", I remind Cato. "I can take care of that, if this is kind of… a handicap for you."

I honestly expect him to protest, but much to my surprise, he doesn't. Another sign that his condition must be serious; otherwise he would never have admitted something's handicapping him.

"What if I get an infection?" Cato asks, obviously ashamed of his own weakness. "It's bleeding from time to time, and maybe it'll even get worse –"

"Do you think it might get any worse?" I ask.

"That's hardly possible, but…" His voice trails off, and he shrugs.

_But we're in the Hunger Games,_ I want to finish his sentence.

For the Gamemakers, everything's possible. They have the money and the means to hurt whoever they like, whenever they like.

They're playing a remorseless game, and we are the pawns.

I don't know what to say anymore. When the rule change was announced, I felt pure happiness like I've never felt before, and I thought it was enough to fill me out for the rest of my life, but now there's already nothing left of it. Every hint of happiness is gone.

It all seemed so easy back then: Only four more tributes to kill and we'd be the victors of these Games.

But of course, it was just another move of the Gamemakers to test our strength, to soften us. To make the Games more exciting and more amusing to the Capitol citizens.

I wish this shit was over already.

I imagine Cato and me going home, Cato looking absolutely perfect with that bright grin of his. The winner's smile; the contagious one that I remember quite well from the reaping. In my imagination, Cato's face is as pure and pristine as ever. It makes me happy to see him like this; unbelievably happy. The thought of his face without the swelling seems almost better than the thought of victory itself.

"We're so close to the aim, I certainly won't give up now", Cato suddenly says. "Forget about my face. We'll go kill the others."

I look at him doubtfully. "Are you sure? Maybe that's not the best idea if it really hurts that much…"

"It would hurt more to lose my pride", Cato replies. "And I'm going to lose it if I don't kill those weaklings because of a stupid swell!"

"We could wait another night", I say, "just to see if it gets better with the time."

Cato throws a warning glance at me. "I told you what would happen if we wait too long! Maybe this is already the beginning, Clove! We'd better kill them quickly and then they'll fix me up in the Capitol."

"I don't know, Cato. Isn't this going to be a disadvantage for you? You don't even have a clear vision!"

"I can see enough", Cato claims.

"What if you get hurt?" I object. "I say it's too risky!"

"So you've got a better idea, besides hanging around and wasting time?" Cato pulls the sword out of its sheath as if to underline his point. The sharp blade is flashing in the sunlight when Cato jumps to his feet, a look of strong determination on his face.

"I'll kill them." He literally spits the words out.

In no time at all, I see Cato's body shaking in the heat. His hands begin to tremble so hard that he has to let go of the sword; it hits the ground with a loud clangor. Cato staggers forward and, before I have a chance to reach him, falls down on his knees.

I jump to my feet and run over to him. He's vomiting again, one hand clenched tightly over his stomach.

Desperation rises inside of me. I don't know what I can do to make the Gamemakers stop this insanity, but there has to be a way. I can't stand by and watch Cato suffer. I would do _anything _to help him, if I only knew how.

My hand rests on Cato's shoulder until he's done vomiting. Then he pushes me away with all the strength he has left.

His face turns pale, his eyelids begin to flatter and all I can do is watch him collapse.

"Cato!" I call him again and again, louder and more desperate with every time. "Cato, look at me! Cato!"

But it's futile; he's already passing out. I just manage to keep his head from hitting a rock and then he's gone, unconscious for who knows how long.

I lay him down as softly as possible. "Cato, can you hear me?" I whisper in a last attempt to help him, but I have to admit that it's ridiculous, that he won't answer me.

Nevertheless, I go on talking. I don't even know why; probably because it's the only thing I can do in this situation.

"I'll figure something out, okay?" I tell the motionless Cato. "I won't move an inch until you wake up, and in the meantime I'll think of something. _Anything. _You can count on me, I promise!"

No reaction, of course. I reach out for Cato's face and touch it softly, but this time he doesn't flinch in pain. He doesn't even seem to notice my presence.

I don't know how long I sit there next to Cato's body in the blazing heat, telling him he can count on me, until it occurs to me that I should better get him into the shadows.

It's not easy to move all those muscles with my slender arms, but I don't care about the effort it takes. I pull Cato away from the river and cautiously bed him in a mossy spot under cover of the trees.

I try not to look at him too often, because I have to keep an eye on the area around us and because of the fear that overwhelms me when I see his face. For the next couple of hours, I tell myself that Cato's going to wake up; that he's just taking a rest and that maybe he'll be better afterwards. Still, I can't fight the urge to bend over him from time to time and make sure he's alive. In these moments, I'll close my eyes and focus only on the sound of his breathing to drive away the fear of losing him.


	9. Chapter 8

"Cato! Cato, did you hear that? Come on, open your eyes!"

I keep shaking his body until he finally opens his eyes. They're still gray, which is somehow a relief. It means he's still here and still the same Cato.

"You're saved!" I tell him excitedly. "We're saved! Can you believe it? We'll go home soon!"

"What?" Cato frowns in confusion, and I start laughing.

I don't know if I'm laughing out of relief or pure madness, because I've been worried like hell for the last few hours. Probably both.

But now Cato's awake, and there is a way to help him, and we will be on our way home in a couple of days – assumed it'll take us that long to kill our remaining opponents.

"Didn't you hear the announcement?" I ask while he sits up and stretches his limbs.

As I can find no trace of happiness or excitement or at least surprise in his gaze, I guess he must've slept too deep to hear a thing.

"There'll be a feast tomorrow", I explain to him. "They'll give every tribute what he needs the most, so it has to be your medicine!"

Cato just looks at me, his expression bewildered. "Wait – a feast?"

"Yeah, right at dawn, at the Cornucopia", I add. "We're going to get medicine for you, Cato!"

Understanding appears on his face, then again confusion. "There has to be a catch in it", he murmurs. "We can't just go there and get what we need."

"I'm pretty sure the others will show up, too", I reply. "They'll have us all in one spot. But that's not a problem for us, is it? It's our chance to finish everybody off!"

Cato puts a finger to his face, grimacing in pain. We both know that he won't be able to fight without the medicine. Still, I don't want to concentrate on the negative points now that there's hope.

Even if we can't kill the others right away, we can at least find out where they are hiding. And then, when Cato's skin has recovered, we're going to complete our work.

"What's this feast supposed to look like?" he wants to know.

"They didn't say anything", I answer. "I think we should just go there and see what happens."

Cato nods. "There's no other way, obviously. But you could keep an eye out for the others, so maybe you can kill one of them while I get the medicine."

I stare at him in disbelief. "While _you_ get the medicine?"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"Seriously, I don't think that's a good idea", I say. "I'm gonna get it for you."

There's anger rising in Cato's eyes, but I can't help it. It would be too risky if he went himself, especially now that we're so close to the aim. I couldn't possibly bear losing him; not under these circumstances.

As I've already expected, Cato has another opinion on that.

"I'm going", he protests. "It's my medicine, and I'll go get it."

"But you're still weak", I insist, remembering his collapse only a few hours ago. "It's safer if I go."

"That doesn't matter. It's not a question of safety, but of honor."

When I open my mouth to say something, Cato interrupts me. "I don't want to hear anything about the risk, Clove! You can spare your words, okay?"

"No, Cato, listen –", I try it again, but he won't let me have a say.

"_You _listen!" Cato declares. "I thought you knew that we're Careers, Clove! Have you forgotten what that means? Have you forgotten everything they taught us about honor back home?"

"Since when do you care about conventions?" I counter.

Cato seems to ignore my comment. "Protecting one's honor is the most important task of a Career", he goes on. "So as long as I am in these Games, I will never let anyone do such a simple thing for me as getting some stupid medicine! I am _never _too weak to do that!"

"But you're not going to lose your honor by letting somebody help you", I explain insistently. "Can't you for once forget that we're tributes and see it as a simple favor? A favor… of a friend?"

I don't know what I've said that makes him so sad, but suddenly Cato's shoulders slump and he averts his gaze, caving in. I watch his profile; the swollen face, the muscular arms that seem so weak right now, as if all his strength had left his body. But why? What did I do?

"Cato…", I begin, but then fall silent because I don't really know what to say.

When Cato looks at me again, a dark shadow has fallen over his eyes. I immediately recognize that shadow; I've already seen it a couple of times in the arena and during our training sessions in the Capitol. It appears every time Cato's about to kill someone. The shadow means not only bloodlust, but also hatred.

In this moment, it's pure hatred. And it's clearly directed at me.

"We aren't _friends_", Cato says, his voice cold. "Did you really think that, Clove? We're co-tributes, and allies because of the brilliant strategy our mentors have figured out. But apart from that, you're _nothing _to me. So I hope you'll understand now why I won't let you do me a favor."

His words hurt like hell. Or worse. I just can't imagine anything worse than hell, but if I could, this would be what I'm feeling.

_You're nothing to him. Simple-hearted little Clove thought Cato liked her. Arrogant, attractive, deadly Cato. Well, he doesn't. Not in the least._

I've been such a fool. We wouldn't even be allies if our mentors had decided differently. Cato would've killed me like he's killed all of the others. There wouldn't be any difference; I'd be just one dead tribute among twenty-two others. Just another one of those who died from Cato's hands, and forgotten just as fast.

An irresistible wave of rage is rising inside of me.

"If this is what you think, we can stop it now!" I exclaim, jumping to my feet. "The show's over! You've never cared about what our mentors say, so we'll just quit this alliance. Right here."

I'm surprised my voice sounds so steady, so convinced. As if I actually wanted to split up.

Cato seems to buy it, too; despite the surprised expression that flashes across his face for a second. Then he's back to his usual indifference.

"Whatever", he says under his breath.

"Fine", I reply. "So that's it."

He doesn't answer, and he obviously doesn't care. That's okay. I'm not in the right mood for a goodbye, anyway. I'll just gather my stuff and go.

Cato watches me as I take my jacket and put on the belt with my knives. I decide to leave him the backpack, and that's all there is.

Before I go, I risk one last look at him. He's staring right back, the shadow of hatred still covering his eyes. I think there's something else, some tiny feeling that isn't strong enough to break through the surface, but I seriously don't care.

I could never hate Cato, but the hatred in his eyes makes me angry; unbelievably angry. Only the fact that he's Cato keeps me from stabbing him. He isn't the Cato I thought he was, but he's still Cato, and I still can't kill him. It's strange, like there's an imaginary wall that keeps me from hurting him. Probably he built it up himself. However, the wall has always been there from the moment I got to know Cato, and I've already tried a couple of times to tear it down, but it's indestructible. The greatest rage won't even cause a crack.

My hand grips a knife and for a moment, I consider giving it a try. I know it won't work, because nothing ever works, but I have to do something to get rid of my anger. I have to hurt something, somebody –

Then I think better of it and let go. I could yell at Cato, tell him that I hate him, that I condemn him; whatever. It would be a lie, though. So I decide to do nothing at all.

It's quite an effort to avert my gaze, but once I've turned away, I feel better. It's over. I'll forget about those ridiculous feelings I was never supposed to have. We were told from the beginning not to develop any feelings. My mother kept repeating they'd only stand in my way and cause nothing but trouble. When I was young, she would sit down on my bed and tell me about the dangers of emotions, and I would stare into the darkness and try to remember every word she said. I guess I've always wanted to be the perfect Career.

I wondered once if my mother had ever felt something for my father, if she had ever _loved _him and, in case she hadn't, if she loved me. I never dared to ask her, though.

Now I know she was right. Feelings mean trouble. They are like a burden you have to rid yourself of; like an obstacle you have to overcome.

That's why I'm leaving Cato without looking back. I need to forget that he even exists. And after a while, I'll just forget about my feelings for him. They will disappear and haunt somebody else, somebody weaker than me. I'll have won the fight.

"Clove?" Cato suddenly asks, but I'm already drunk with the promise of my reclaimed liberty.

"We're done, Cato", I answer and start walking away from him. "Good luck at the feast."

He remains silent. I quicken my pace, afraid that he might try to hold me back, but he doesn't.

Cato is letting me go without resistance.

* * *

The promising thought of my "reclaimed liberty" leaves me with the beginning of twilight.

I've walked until my feet hurt so bad I couldn't go on. I'm going to spend the night here in the woods, close to the Cornucopia. I don't feel any freer without Cato; I only feel worried. My aching feet included, I actually feel worse without him.

I keep wondering if he's okay. I know I shouldn't worry about him, because he certainly won't worry about me. He's probably happy that I'm gone. But even if he can't stand my presence, I'll have to go back to him. I have to admit that I care about him, no matter how much he hates me. And I'm worried.

I'm worried about him going to the feast without any rear cover.

I'm worried that he's going to be incautious and that Katniss will be there to take him at a disadvantage.

I'm worried he might get hurt. Or killed, which would still be unbearable for me.

My anger at Cato is long gone. It has left me with the hope of being happier without him. I've been stupid to even think that.

As the darkness is closing in over the arena, I try to figure out what to do next. Cato would probably just reject me if I went back to him. Anyway, it's not our broken alliance that's causing me trouble. I simply have to find a way to help Cato, at least until the swelling in his face has died down.

I sigh.

The swelling is only going to die down with medicine, and medicine is only available at a certain place. The Cornucopia. If I want to help Cato, I need to go to the feast.

So be it. I'll go there and get his medicine and find him. Maybe he'll allow me to stay with him until he has fully recovered, but I doubt it. More likely, he'll be beside himself with rage. But I guess I have to take that risk.

If I get the medicine before he does, Cato is not going to die, and that's all I want. I'll give him the medicine and leave him alone again. He will be alive and perfectly fine.

So that's my plan. It's the only way I can make sure he won't get hurt; the only way I can go on fighting without worrying about him.

I'll save his life, and then I'm going to disappear from it.


	10. Chapter 9

My body is all tensed up while I'm waiting for the spectacle to begin.

I'm hiding in the underbrush, my eyes fixed on the Cornucopia. I haven't seen any of the other tributes, but I know that Cato has to be somewhere near. He needs this medicine; otherwise he'll have a huge disadvantage in combat.

It's still dark in the arena. I know that every moment the sun will begin to rise, and I wonder what will happen next, because there aren't any signs of a feast yet.

I'm already afraid that the whole announcement was just another joke, some perfidious trick to round us up, when the first rays of sunlight appear on the horizon.

My jaw drops as something in front of the Cornucopia begins to move. There's a table coming out of nowhere; a table with four backpacks on it. They wear the numbers of the remaining Districts: Two, Five, Eleven and Twelve.

I'm still staring at the one with the Two on it when somebody starts running across the open field toward the table. Is it Cato? It mustn't be him! I swore myself I'd be there before him, and I would never forgive myself if he got into danger because of my slow reaction…

Then I see that it isn't Cato. It's the girl from Five, her red hair flashing in the early sunlight.

And suddenly my feet start to run. As if moved by some mysterious invisible force, I am breaking out of the underbrush onto the open ground, darting toward my aim like an arrow.

In my mind, there's only enough space for one thought: _Faster!_

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the girl from Five disappear into the woods.

My feet carry me towards the Cornucopia, towards the backpack with Cato's medicine, and I keep pushing myself further, knowing I have to be faster, faster –

There's another movement in my field of vision. I raise my head and spot Katniss on the other side of the field, running toward me at a high pace. In a split second, I've pulled out a knife and darted it at her head with all my force.

It would've hit her right in the chest if she hadn't noticed me and dodged just in time. I'm already reaching for the next knife as I sprint in her direction. My second throw is making her trip and fall to the ground. She's as good as dead.

We're so close to the feast that for a moment, I honestly consider grabbing my backpack and disappearing before anybody else does. Then I remember that I'm a Career; that this is my chance to eliminate another opponent, and I lunge at Katniss' stumbling figure.

She goes down again. I am on top of her, knife ready to slash her throat, but the eager look on her face causes me to make her death extra cruel, to provoke her a bit before she'll be released.

It's so pathetic how she keeps trying to free herself from my grip. She's wriggling and kicking and reaching for my hair, but all her attempts remain futile. I've got her nailed to the ground, determined to finish her off, and I'm doing it all for Cato.

"Wanna help Lover Boy?" I hiss at her, grinning viciously. "I'm so sorry to ruin your plans, sweetheart!"

And she's still fighting, still hoping she might make it out of here alive. I'm a bit surprised, maybe even disappointed, that she doesn't plead for mercy.

I've always liked the sound of someone begging for his life, mainly because it means this someone is completely under my control and powerless against everything I do. Seeing another person's helplessness reminds me of my own strength and makes me feel mighty. That's how I'm supposed to feel as a Career, right?

Well, if poor little Katniss isn't already pleading, I should probably make her. I press the blade of my knife at her throat, letting her just enough space to keep breathing.

"You know, it's cute that you're so strong-willed", I tell her while her eyes grow wider with desperation. "You really liked that little girl, didn't you? And now you're going to take revenge for her death! So cute… What was her name again? Rue?"

Anger crosses her face, but she knows she's not in the right position to show it. She starts struggling again, and I sigh.

"Okay, sweetheart, time to finish my work", I announce with a bored undertone. "It'll be easier for both of us if you keep still."

I raise my hand, my fingers clenched tightly around the knife, ready to bring it down into her face. Before I do, I give her my sweetest smile.

_Goodbye, Katniss, _I think. _Never to be seen again._

But I don't get the chance to kill her. Somebody is grabbing me from behind and I'm lifted in the air by a pair of huge arms that can only belong to Tresh. He's pulling at my hair and I cry in pain, cry with full throat, while I'm hanging there a few inches above the ground.

I start kicking and try to drive my knife into Thresh's body, but his grip around my wrist is too tight.

"You killed her?" the giant rumbles, enormous rage flooding his voice. "You killed Rue?"

I notice how Katniss is slowly drawing away from us, stumbling backward until she has reached the table. I can't believe she's made it. I watch her taking a backpack and running off into the woods.

If I weren't in such pain, I would be unbelievably annoyed that she's still alive. But I can't concentrate on my escaped prey now. The pain is filling me out, filling out even the tiniest part of my body, and all I can do is cry out like an insane.

Then I see the rock in Thresh's hand; the last thing I see before my vision starts blurring. And that's the last straw. I struggle for my life. I open my mouth and yell Cato's name with all the power I have left. I put every bit of hope into that cry.

_I don't want to die. _That's all I can think of.

_I was never supposed to die. I am a Career._

Somehow, I've always thought it would be hard to kill me. Being a Career has felt like a life insurance for me: I was supposed to be the hunter, not the prey. Being a Career meant staying alive.

I realize now how stupid I've been. From the moment I went into the arena, I've felt inviolable, indestructible, immortal. But things can change very quickly.

Thresh is lifting his hand with the rock and he's going to crash my skull with it. I know it. It's going to happen in less than a second. It's ironic that I'm going to have such an easy, unopposed death. I just hope I'll be dead right away.

"Cato!" I bring out one last time, already too weak for anybody to hear.

I'm numb with pain. I try to forget my inevitable death by thinking of Cato, by imagining that he's coming to rescue me, by seeing his tall figure in front of the trees, nothing but a distorted shadow with blurred edges.

But it's unmistakably him. And he's calling my name.

"Clove!" It's coming from a distance. Am I dead already? What's happening here?

Cato's voice is growing louder and I try desperately to make out his figure, but all I see is the rock in Thresh's hand dashing directly at my face.

I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the impact. It doesn't come.

There is no pain, no flashback of my life passing in front of my eyes; there's simply nothing.

The rock did not hit me. I am not dead.

But I am falling, falling to the ground, and Thresh's hands around my wrists are gone, and he's no longer pulling at my hair. I feel damp soil in my face, soil everywhere, but no pain.

Human noises come to my ears from above: gasping, sighing, moaning.

The sounds of a fight. The sounds I've known since I was a child, since I began training at the academy. These sounds are more familiar to me than my own voice.

They don't hold on for long, though. The fight ends with a slash, like metal meeting flesh, and the dull downfall of a dead body. Seconds later, the cannon fires.

It's over.

"Clove", I hear Cato's voice again, closer this time.

I am pulled onto my back and there he is, kneeling right beside me, his face still swollen but covered with relief. I reach for his hand and squeeze it tightly.

"Thank you", I whisper. Then I start choking, and I see blood coming out of my mouth, a lot of blood.

"It's okay", Cato says softly. "He's dead and you're alive. We're gonna make it, okay?"

I nod and I can't help but smile. Cato smiles back, smiles at me whole-heartedly.

"That was close", he mutters, probably more to himself than to me. "That was really close."


	11. Chapter 10

Cato and I decide to stay at the Cornucopia for the night. After we've treated his skin with the ointment we found in our backpack, Cato feels much better. He offers to keep watch and tells me to rest as long as I need.

We don't talk about our argument the other day, though. It seems no longer necessary to discuss what happened. Cato seems to know that I was sad about our separation, and I'm pretty sure he felt the same way. Besides, the feast has shown us that we're better off together: We need one another to give us rear cover, to fight as a team. Without the other, we're just usual tributes, giving their best in attempt to survive. But when we're together, we are Careers, vicious and deadly, giving everybody the creeps with our mere presence.

Cato and I only work as a team. It has almost cost me my life to remark that.

It's late afternoon when I curl up in the protective shadow of the Corncucopia; Cato sitting a few feet away with his back on me. His hands are playing with the ointment while he's staring off into the distance, probably sunken in thought. I watch him until I'm too tired to keep my eyes open any longer.

Sleep is enfolding me like cold, thick fog. It's dreamless at first, but then, as if I was inexorably pulled down by quicksand, images began flashing in front of my eyes. They appeared slowly, one after another; images of Cato's swollen face, of our argument. And I understand that they aren't just images, but they're memories.

They come faster after a time, bringing feelings with them. I can see the night sky above me while my heart is drowning in worry and solitude. It has to be the night before the fight…

Images keep replacing each other, moving faster and faster, until they start blurring, merging. A whole illusionary world is built up in my mind, swallowing the last gaps of reality. The quicksand is pulling me down with high speed now, and it feels like I'm catapulted back in time.

Suddenly, I find myself hiding in the underbrush. The sun begins to rise at this very moment. I can see the Corncucopia and a table appearing in front of it. The feast. I am reliving it.

There's Foxface, coming out of nowhere. And then I start running. And there's Katniss.

In my dream, the events of the day are passing even faster than in reality; as if somebody was just pressing a key to fast-forward the whole scene. I am completely overwhelmed by everything that's happening around me, and for a moment I'm afraid I might choke on all those impressions.

I don't know why I keep running. Then I remember that I'm only a marionette, and the Gamemakers are pulling my strings.

I endure everything without resistance. I lunge at Katniss for the second time, press my knife to her throat for the second time, and I try to kill her for the second time. Then, there's Thresh. And with him comes the pain.

Time seems to stop for a moment; I am reliving my torture in slow-motion. Thresh seems even taller, angrier and more terrifying than in reality. The pain he causes by pulling at my hair is more intense, too. But I am just as weak and helpless as before. This time, I don't try to free myself, because I know it'll only increase my misery.

I cry, though. I beg Thresh to stop, to let me go, and I cry that it wasn't me who killed Rue. I yell at him with all the power I have left.

Thresh lifts his hand, the one that's holding the lethal rock. It's worse than I remember it. The pain is so much stronger than in my memory, and it's tearing me apart like a hundred knives…

But there's one last hope, one last resort.

"Cato!" I scream in agony, pleading for him to hear me. _"Cato!"_

"Clove", he answers softly.

His voice seems to stop the flashback. I'm no longer in Thresh's arms, but from one second to the other, I'm looking into Cato's worried eyes.

I straighten up, completely startled, and notice that my heart is pounding heavily in my chest. I gasp for air like a drowning.

"Clove", Cato repeats. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

I open my mouth, but I'm not able to say anything. I feel like I'm having a fever. When I wipe my hand across my forehead, it comes back covered in cold sweat.

"You're shaking like hell", Cato states, already taking off his jacket. "Here, take this."

With trembling fingers, I reach for the jacket. The fact that I can't even thank him makes me feel like a complete jerk.

But my mind is still spinning with illusions, feelings… the unbearable pain I've felt only moments ago is still haunting me, and it seems so real that it's making me shiver even though it's just a memory.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Cato asks quietly.

I look into the gray of his eyes and feel a bit safer. "Think so", I get out.

My voice sounds so hoarse that Cato immediately hands me his water bottle. I take it gratefully.

"So, what did you dream?" he goes on.

I take a sip of water. "Thresh", is all I can give him as an answer.

Cato nods. "Of course", he mutters grimly. "Who else?"

Then his face softens again, and he's looking directly into my eyes. "But he's dead, Clove", Cato tells me with the voice of someone who's talking to a small child. "He's nothing but a ghost now."

"And I'm haunted by that ghost", I whisper, dropping my head in shame.

Nightmares. Another thing a Career isn't supposed to have.

"It's okay", Cato says. "That'll pass. Just remember that he can no longer hurt you."

His words sound so good, so soothing. I actually manage to calm myself down a bit.

"How's your face?" I ask Cato, partly to distract myself, but also because I'm still worried about him.

He just smirks. "I feel like a new man! Too bad you can't see it closely."

Yeah, too bad. I blink a few times, but Cato's face remains dark. Only his eyes are overcoming the night; brilliant like black diamonds and bright with recovered elation.

This is probably what induces me to do what I'm going to do now. Intuitively, I draw nearer and reach out for Cato's face. When my fingertips have found his skin, he doesn't flinch or pull away. This time, Cato simply closes his eyes and leans in to my touch.

I feel his cheek, feel its smooth spots and those still swollen and spots damp from the ointment.

Little by little, the pain from my flashback is leaking from my body until it's almost gone. What remains is an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach; probably rather a foreshadowing than an actual feeling. But it's enough to keep the memory alive inside of me. It's enough to let me know that I'll never be free.

I draw back my hand, and Cato opens his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" he asks cautiously, but I shake my head.

"No. I'm really happy for you, Cato. I'm glad you'll be healed."

_He can be healed, but what about you, Clove? What about the kind of wounds you have? They can't be treated with some primitive ointment._

"My skin is recovering so fast that the process should be over by tomorrow", Cato announces proudly. "Which means we can hunt down the rest of those weaklings, and then we'll finally go home."

I can tell from the sound of his voice that he's smiling, but to me, the idea of going home isn't so comforting anymore. Wherever I go, I'll carry the memories with me. Even in District Two, the ghost of Thresh will be able to haunt me at any time. There's no place throughout Panem where I'll be safe from him.

"Clove? What's wrong?"

I don't want to tell Cato about my fear; he probably wouldn't understand it, anyway. So I just sigh.

"I thought you were happy about my recovery", he says after a while.

"No, you're getting that wrong", I object. "I'm so glad you're gonna be fine, Cato, like I told you!"

"You know what I'm really glad about?"

I stare at my hands. "That we'll win these Games soon, I guess. That's what we came here for."

To my surprise, Cato shakes his head. "No, Clove. I mean, yes – we came here to win, and it'll be fantastic, I'm sure – but at the moment, I'm just really glad you're alive."

I don't know what to say. I raise my head to look at him, trying to figure out what he means. Wasn't it only two days ago that he told me we weren't friends? That I was _nothing _to him?

"You're just saying that", I reply. "Look, you don't need to make up for that argument. It was also my fault. And it's already forgotten."

Cato laughs a little. "If this was supposed to be an apology, you would know", he assures me. "What I wanted to say was: You were unbelievably lucky today. I did what I could to save you, but you were still _so lucky. _One strike with that rock and you would've been dead. That's why I'm so happy to have you here, okay? I don't know what I would've done without you."

I hesitate, silently analyzing his words. "You would've gone on", I say then. "You simply would've done what you're here for. You would've killed the others and won. It would've been more dangerous without my rear cover, but that's all. In the end, you'd still be the victor."

"That sounds so easy, going on", Cato replies thoughtfully.

"Isn't it easy for you?" I ask. I imagine how hard it would be for me to go on without Cato, but I know it's not that hard for him. I'm not important enough for him to waste time mourning my death.

"Going on is never easy", Cato answers. I bet he's thinking of Glimmer.

"What if there had never been a rule change?" I ask. "You would've killed me, wouldn't you?"

Cato shrugs. "I wouldn't have had a choice. Winning has always been first priority."

"I would've killed you, too", I admit quietly.

"But that's different", Cato protests.

"What's different? We were just lucky there was a rule change!" I point out. "Otherwise we would've –"

"_Everything's _different!" he interrupts me. "And this is not about the rule change! Things aren't the same anymore, don't you understand?"

I stare at him in confusion. "Things aren't the same anymore? What do you mean? What has changed, Cato?"

There's a long silence between us. I don't know if Cato is just thinking or if he's ignoring me. Maybe I've upset him and he's not going to talk to me any longer. However, I keep fumbling with my hands while I wait for an answer. And I'm surprised when I actually get one. It's not very precise, but it's still answer.

"I can't tell you yet", Cato says. "We have to wait until the time has come. But I promise I'm going to tell you when we're home."

"That's already the second promise you've made in the arena", I tease him. "Are you sure you're gonna keep it?"

Cato smiles at me. "Absolutely sure. – Listen, Clove, I know this must sound very confusing to you, and it's probably not making the situation any better, but you can rely on me. I swear, I'm gonna tell you."

I have to admit that he's right: This _is _confusing. But then again, he is wrong when he says this isn't making the situation any better. In my opinion, it is.

I'm still aware of the memories that could haunt me at any second, and I still know that my return won't be as glorious and untroubled as I've imagined it. Too much has happened since the beginning of the Games: my feelings for Cato, the tears I've cried because of him and the pain I felt when I was facing death from Thresh's hands… I'm going to take everything with me when I come home. The Games will never truly be over.

But now I have also something to look forward to. Whatever Cato wants to tell me, I think it'll be something good. And it's a reason to go home; otherwise I will never know. The promise Cato gave me does not only mean he's going to share a secret, a part of his privacy with me, but it also means that he's going to be there. Whenever I feel weak, whenever I'm overwhelmed by the events of the arena, Cato will be there for me. Always.

"Tomorrow, we'll finish them off", I say, my voice as determined as ever.

Cato smirks. "I'm so glad you're here, Clove", he says.

Then he turns his back on me again, and I cuddle up on the ground to return to sleep.


	12. Chapter 11

We spend most of the next day scouring the woods for Katniss, Lover Boy and the girl from Five.

It's not until we hear the cannon that we finally pick up their trail. Cato leads the way through the underbrush, convinced they have to be somewhere near.

After a short walk, we come across Five's dead body. She's lying motionless on the ground, without any visible wounds. But her hand is filled with the sort of berries I would recognize everywhere: nightlock.

_Only two more to go, _I think to myself while I look into her lifeless eyes.

Unbelievable how stupid she's been. How can you happen to eat nightlock when you're so close to victory? What a tragic twist of fate. But that's how it goes if you don't watch out. Seeing the nightlock in her pale hand reminds me that we're still in the Hunger Games; that it isn't over yet. We still have to be careful, and patient.

Nevertheless, the death of Five is a benefit for Cato and me. After everything that happened, the odds finally seem to be in our favor.

Suddenly, I hear Katniss' desperate voice screaming "Peeta!" and I lock eyes with Cato. We're both quiet for a moment, listening intensely. Leaves are rumbling somewhere in front of us, and I think I can make out steps; quick steps, muted by the soft forest floor. Katniss has to be within spitting distance…

I just can't see her anywhere.

Cato grabs my arms and points at a spot only a few feet away, behind a group of massive trees. Their foliage is so thick that I can't see anything at first. Then I bend forward and spot a clearing, hidden quite well behind that leafy undergrowth. In the middle of the clearing, a jacket is outspread on the forest floor. That's all; Katniss is still nowhere to be seen.

Cato gestures for me to be quiet and pulls me out onto the clearing. I see a small pile of berries on the jacket, obviously nightlock, and I understand that the girl from Five has probably stolen hers from this pile. So if the berries actually belong to Katniss and Lover Boy, he might be about to eat them, right?

In this moment, Katniss' relieved voice is reaching my ears. She must've found him. And we will find her, now that she's given away her location.

I look at Cato to see if he thinks the same. He nods in the direction of Katniss' voice and grabs my wrist. _Follow me, _his gray eyes seem to say. Then he starts running and I stumble after him, already pulling out a knife from my belt for the upcoming fight.

The last fight of these Games. The last fight that separates us from victory. The memorable moment has finally come.

I follow Cato through thicket and shrubbery until we come to a stop. Then I grip my knife even tighter and step out from behind his back.

Katniss and Lover Boy are right in front of us, their bodies intertwined in a close hug. For a split second, I'm too startled to react. The sight of these two is somehow bringing back my own feelings, my feelings for Cato that I've never been able to show. If Cato knew, would he hold me like that? Would he play with my hair as tenderly as Lover Boy does? Would I huddle against his chest like Katniss? I wonder if I will ever be able to tell him about my feelings, but honestly, I doubt it.

All at once, Lover Boy raises his head and looks straight at Cato and me. Cato gives him a triumphant smile before he dashes his sword at him. It hits Lover Boy right into the chest. At the same time, I hurl my knife into Katniss' throat. They fall into each other's arms and sink to the ground, both immediately dead.

I would never have thought it would be so simple. This was supposed to be the final battle, and yet it wasn't even a real battle. Katniss and Lover Boy didn't get the chance to fight back. We killed them in the blink of an eye. Somehow, I just don't get it: How could it be that easy? As easy as stealing a lolly from an infant, Cato would say. Where's the trouble, the fight, the action? Where is everything that's making the Games so exciting to the Capitol citizens?

My mind is occupied with what has just happened. I just can't believe it; but there they are, the dead bodies of our last opponents. Cato and I are the only tributes still alive. That means we've won. With the simple act of throwing a knife into somebody's throat, I've won. Is this really happening? After all the pain I've seen in the arena, after everything I saw and everything I expected to see, this is the end? Have I trained my whole life for this simple moment? Is this how victory feels?

I didn't think victory was so full of doubts. But it is, obviously.

An hovercraft arrives to collect the dead bodies to our feet. I watch it disappear in the clouds, following it with my eyes but seeing nothing at all.

After we've been silent for a while, Cato shrugs and says: "So that's it. We're done."

I nod, even though it doesn't feel right.

_We're done_, that's not what you're supposed to say when you've won the Hunger Games. As a child, I used to think something like that when I was done washing the dishes. I would be relieved and think: _Yeah, you're done; finally!_

But that's nothing compared to my current situation. So why don't I feel any different?

"Cato", I begin, but he interrupts me.

"We can go home", he says. "We've won!"

"Cato –"

"We'll go home", he repeats like an insane. "We will go home, Clove; can you believe it?"

His voice sounds so full of euphoria that I don't want to destroy the atmosphere now. This moment is supposed to be perfect, so why am I still in doubt? This is victory! Glorious victory, dream of my past life and guarantor for my future one – a life in fame and fortune. The life I've always wanted for my family and me. I remember the reaping, when I felt so overly happy because I got the chance to fight for that life, and now that I'm actually going to get it, I hang the head? No way.

Cato is right: We are the only ones left. We did it. The Gamemakers have no choice but to crown us the victors of these Games. They have to observe their own rules, don't they?

I put a smile on my face and look at Cato. Seconds later, I'm in his arms.

Images of Katniss and Peeta appear in my mind; the way they were holding each other, the way they were so grateful to have each other, to be still alive, to be together. Lying in Cato's arms actually feels a bit like that, but I have to remind myself that I'm not the reason for his happiness.

We're hugging each other as the deadly Careers from District Two; the victors of the 74th Hunger Games. We're nothing but a team. There are no feelings involved. At least Cato doesn't feel anything, that's for sure.

"Clove", he whispers into my ear, making it really hard for me to believe in his insensibility. "Do you know what that means?"

"What?" I whisper back.

"It means that I'm gonna have a huge party!" Cato exclaims, and suddenly I am lifted in the air – not violently, like Thresh did, but joyfully, effusively, and I laugh as we start to spin around and around, my hands clasping Cato's shoulders for support.

That's more like I expected to feel as a victor. Happy and free and without any sorrow.

"Attention, tributes!" Claudius Templesmith's voice booms through the arena.

Cato immediately sets me down. We're staring into each other's eyes in anticipation of his announcement, the announcement of our victory. We'll be officially presented as victors in front of the whole Capitol.

It must've been the absence of this announcement that caused my insecurity. I'm not able to feel like a true victor until I've been presented as such. The Gamemakers create the board, they start the Games, they control their course and they decide when it's over. Only the Gamemakers can make you a victor. You have only won if they say you have.

And now it's going to happen. I already hear Claudius Templesmith say: "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the victors of our 74th Hunger Games: From District Two, Cato and Clove!"

That's what everybody's waiting for. He's just delaying it to build up tension, and when he finally says it, the tension is going to explode into a mass of elation, applause, jubilance. The Capitol citizens will be partying all night in honor of Cato and me. We'll be the center of everything. For a few seconds, when Claudius Templesmith presents us as the victors, we will be the center of Panem, the most important people, more important than President Snow even. This is going to be our moment.

"The former rule change has been canceled. The rule that two tributes can win if they originate from the same District does no longer exist. There can be only one victor."

I let the words sink in. After a small pause, Claudius Templesmith adds solemnly: "Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever _in your favor!"

It's quiet again. There's the wind rustling through the treetops, the birds singing their lonely song. It comes back as a hundredfold echo, and I know the birds must be mockingjays.

"No", I hear Cato say next to me. He clenches his fist. "They can't do that. That's perverse."

I shrug. "It's like before. One of us has to kill the other. That's how it was supposed to be."

"Okay, then. Kill me."

"Cato, I –"

"Go ahead!" he yells.

I notice that his sword was taken away with the hovercraft. He doesn't have any more weapons, whereas I have my knives. Still, I don't plan on using them. I unfastened my belt and drop it to the ground, the blades clanking mechanically.

"I'm not doing this", I point out, a bitter edge to my voice. "You kill me."

"Am I supposed to strangle you with my hands?" Cato laughs. "No way."

I sigh. "Why are they doing that to us? What did we do wrong?"

"I know the reason", Cato says.

In the following minutes, many things happen at the same time.

It starts with Cato coming closer until we're only inches apart; a look of melancholy and desperation in his eyes. I have the impression that he stares right through me, right into me, into my heart. Then he opens his mouth and whispers: "It's my fault. They're doing this because I haven't been good enough at hiding…"

"Hiding what?" I reply, confused by his mysterious explanation.

"I've tried to ignore you and distract myself with Glimmer", Cato goes on. "I didn't want them to know because I knew they would use it against me – against the both of us. I was afraid they would hurt you, so I've been extra cautious not to reveal anything, but it didn't work. They know _everything."_

I look at Cato in exasperation. I don't understand what he's talking about; all I know is that I've never heard him talk so full of hatred, so it has to be something serious.

Cato returns my look and remarks my lack of understanding. "I'm sorry", he says, shaking his head. "I don't know how to explain this to you, Clove. I've been an idiot."

"Yeah, well, that's probably true." I smile uncertainly, but he doesn't even seem to notice.

"I'm serious", Cato says. "I behaved like a complete idiot, so it's okay if you don't want to hear my apology. It's okay if you don't believe me. This is what I promised to tell you when we're home, Clove."

"Then tell me", I press. "You promised it."

He nods. "I did. And I'll keep that promise. So…"

Hell, why does he act so double-mindedly? He's fumbling with his fingers as if he was actually _nervous. _But I know Cato. It's impossible for him to be nervous, anxious or any other kind of uncertain feeling. He is always strong and straight-forward, no matter what's happening. That's the way he is. And one of the numerous things I like about him.

"So?" I arch an eyebrow at Cato.

He takes a deep breath. "So I've been an idiot on purpose. I've never liked Glimmer, and I never meant to be rude to you, but I had to do it because it was the only way to protect you."

"Protect me from what?" I ask.

"Them." Cato shoots an angry look at the sky, and I understand that he's talking about the Gamemakers.

"But why would they want to hurt me? I mean, what has that got to do with you?"

"They would hurt you to get to me", Cato explains matter-of-factly. "They would've seized the opportunity to thrill the audience by cracking me. They would've done anything if they had known about my secret! Maybe they would've killed you…" He trails off, then adds quietly: "I can't even stand the thought of it."

I feel impatience rising inside of me, and I try hard to hold it back, but it's already prevailing.

"What secret, Cato?" I want to know. "What did you have to hide?"

All at once, I feel his lips on mine. I'm so startled that I pull back from the kiss immediately, even though I've been waiting an eternity for this moment to come.

"I'm sorry –", Cato begins, but now it's me who's cutting him off. I press my lips onto his as hard as I can; so hard that I can't breathe for a few seconds, but breathing doesn't seem important, anyway.

The only thing that matters is the kiss. As long as it endures.

"I didn't plan for that to happen", Cato says when we reluctantly part from each other. "But when I discovered I had feelings for you, I knew I would have to hide them. That's why I've been such an idiot, Clove."

I put my arms around his neck, lost in the gray of his eyes that doesn't seem to be so gray anymore. It's more like graphite. Actually, Cato as a person is a lot like graphite: He can be hard and cold like stone, but he can also be brilliant like crystal. It's just not that obvious, his crystal side. Only if you look closely, you'll discover the graphite's beauty. Not the lyric, sentimental kind of beauty, but the sincere one that's coming from deep inside. That's Cato.

"These are good arguments, you know?" I tell him. "I guess I have to accept your apology."

Cato smiles whole-heartedly. "I love you", he whispers into my ear.

"You're still gonna have to kill me", I tease.

"Under these circumstances…" Cato reaches for my belt and pulls out a knife, then steps back from me and turns skyward.

"Did you hear that?" he yells, obviously talking to the Gamemakers once again. "I love her! And I'm not going to kill her! You can try whatever you want, but I won't do it! I'm not one of your little marionettes! The Games are over; you've lost."

I reach out for his hand when he adds: "And don't even think about hurting her! If you kill her, I will cut my own throat with that knife and there'll be no victor at all!"

Before I can even think about it, I grab another knife with my free hand and point it at the sky. "I'll do that, too!" I announce loudly, not even the slightest trace of doubt in my voice.

I squeeze Cato's hand tightly. I feel like I would do anything for him. This is not just a mere flashing of solidarity, but it's a strong bond that will unite Cato and me until the end.

Either both us win or none at all. It doesn't matter as long as we stay together. I don't care if I die because it'll be with Cato, and I wouldn't want to live without him, anyway.

There's nothing the Gamemakers can do to stop us.

We've already won.

And after a few seconds, they seem to have recognized that, too. Claudius Templesmith's voice sounds really blank compared to his usual enthusiastic tone, but it doesn't matter to me.

I am looking into Cato's eyes and all I hear is: "Ladies and gentlemen, the victors of our 74th annual Hunger Games: Cato and Clove."


	13. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

"When did you know it?" I ask Cato after we've walked in silence for a while.

It's already cold outside, the thick clouds announcing the arrival of the first snow within the next couple of hours though November has only just begun.

Two years have passed since Cato and I have been in the Hunger Games. Two years since we've come out alive. I'm sure neither of us will ever forget about that. But two years are a long time, so the Games are certainly not the first thing that comes to Cato's mind when he's confronted with my question.

"Know what?" he asks casually.

I stop in the middle of the forest track we've been following.

Cato turns around, obviously confused. "What's wrong with you?"

I hesitate.

I don't know what makes it so hard to express what I want to say, but suddenly, all the words in my mind are gone. There are only the images. Those images that keep haunting me as I always knew they would. I hate them more than anything else in the world, but I just can't get rid of them. Whatever I try, they'll return. Like a nightmare that goes on and on and on; forever.

It's not even the image of the rock in Thresh's hand that scares me the most. I've got used to that scene; I've told myself over and over that I'm alive and he's dead and he's not able to hurt me anymore. When the image of the rock flashes in front of my eyes, I can handle it by now.

Glimmer is much worse.

Glimmer in Cato's arms, the two of them huddled against each other in front of the fire, fighting the cold of the night by sharing their warmth… And that's just one thing I see in my mind. One image out of thousands. Some aren't even real; at least I suppose they aren't, because they look like the sharpest reality and hurt like an actual wound in my chest.

When the images are coming to me, I'm powerless. It makes me think I'm weak, and probably crazy. Even if I've left the arena as a victor, I feel like I've come home as a total wreck.

Most of the time, Cato has been there when the fear of death threatened to overwhelm me. He caught me and told me he knew what was going on and that I shouldn't be afraid anymore. He said there was no need to be afraid as long as he was with me, and I believed him. I really did. And much to my surprise, it worked.

Nevertheless, I couldn't tell Cato about Glimmer. He doesn't know that she's become scarier to me than the murder weapon in Thresh's brawny hand. I've never been able to tell Cato because I'm too ashamed of what he might think. I mean, the effect those images have on me is completely ridiculous. It would be a humiliation to admit what I'm actually feeling when I see Glimmer in Cato's arms – even if it's just a memory, even if it's long over.

At first, I've tried to fight this kind of memories the way I fought the thing with Thresh, by convincing myself that Glimmer is dead and will never come back to tear Cato and me apart. Then I understood that it doesn't matter if she's dead or alive. What matters is that Cato had feelings for her, and feelings don't just disappear with the death of a loved person. If they're strong and true, they stay with you for the rest of your life. I don't know what Cato felt for Glimmer. After all, he's still Cato and I still don't understand how he's even able to feel _anything_, especially for me. In the arena, he said he loved me. And he said that Glimmer had never been important to him. But those images in my mind, they speak for themselves. They say something different.

_Look at them, Clove. How happy they look together. He must care a lot about her, don't you think? The way he's looking at her, do you see that? Looks don't lie._

Maybe Glimmer isn't dead for Cato. Maybe his feelings are still the same and he's only here with me because she's gone, and if she were still alive she would be the one on his side now…

That thought scares me so much I can't even stay on my feet. My knees begin to tremble so hard that I'm about to fall when Cato appears at my side, just in time to catch me. He puts his arm around my waist and steadies me.

"Are you feeling ill?" he asks, and the worry in his gray eyes is killing me. It's so _pure._

I shake my head and pull away from him as soon as my legs have regained their strength. "No, I'm fine."

Cato frowns, little convinced. "Is it Thresh again?" he says cautiously.

"No", I reply. "Not him."

"What do you mean, not him? Is it somebody else?"

_Somebody else._ The way Cato says these words makes me think he knows about Glimmer, and about my fear of her. Is it possible that he's already seen through me?

I remain silent.

"It's about the Games, isn't it?" Cato asks in concern. "You're always behaving that way when you remember the Games."

I wish he would stop asking me questions about the Games. It's not like he could do anything against those memories if I told him what they're about. But Cato seems so desperate to help me that I have to tell him something, anything; just to give him an answer. So I decide to start with the truth.

"Okay, fine. It's the Hunger Games. So what?"

Cato shrugs. "Why can't you just… well, try not to think about it anymore?"

"Are you serious?" Indignation is rising inside of me. "It's not like I remember these things on purpose, Cato! I can't just switch that off with a snap of my fingers, okay?"

"Then don't let it get to you", Cato replies simply. "They're only memories. They can't hurt you or anything."

"But I can't do anything against them!" I call out in desperation. "It doesn't matter if those pictures are real or just illusions; neither does it matter if all those people are dead already, because…"

Cato raises his eyebrows. "Because what? Dead people can't harm you, Clove."

"At least not physically", I say without looking at him. "But they can do quite a lot of harm in other ways."

"So it's _her_, isn't it?" he asks straight-forwardly.

When I don't answer, he takes it as a confirmation. "Glimmer. It's always been her, right? But Clove – _she is dead!"_

I turn my back on Cato so he won't see how much the pure sound of Glimmer's name is affecting me.

"Come on, Clove; talk to me", Cato says impatiently. "What is so scary about Glimmer, now that she's no longer here?"

I take a deep breath and try to figure out what to tell him. I wonder if the situation can get any more humiliating for me. I must already look like a complete fool, and I don't want to make it worse by presenting me as one of those excessively jealous women. Even if it's true – I _am _jealous – I won't tell Cato about it. If he knew, he would probably leave without another word; leave not only for the moment, but forever. Why should such a special person like him bother about a girl like me, anyway?

The old Clove seems to be drifting away from me with every day, and I'm about to become the very stereotype of a girl; weak, emotional, annoying. So annoying. I've always hated those girls. And I know Cato hates them just as much.

I have to make him stay. If I tell him the truth about Glimmer, he will go and I'll be lost forever. I can't let that happen; I can't and I won't.

"There's nothing scary about her", I finally announce.

It's not even a real lie. I've never been afraid of Glimmer. I just didn't want to lose Cato. And even now that she's dead, those memories keep telling me that he might still be thinking about her and that I might still lose him.

"There's _something _about her, obviously", Cato replies, sounding irritated. "But I don't get it, okay? What kind of harm could Glimmer possibly do when she's dead?"

Somehow, his lack of understanding is making me angry. I clench my fist for a second, then take another breath to calm myself down.

"She's not doing anything; not actively", I try to explain.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Cato yells.

A sudden impulse makes me spin around. I look at his face and find a mixture of worry and desperation in his eyes, melting into a perfect sadness.

_So it's true, _I think. _He's still longing for her. Glimmer is still alive inside of him._

I'm staring straight into his eyes when I say: "You know what? She's won. She may be dead, but she'll never be gone. And I'm not going to compete against a ghost, Cato."

I avert my gaze and my feet start moving, walking away from him with quick steps. It almost feels like I'm fleeing, but I don't care anymore.

Cato's heart has always belonged to her. If she weren't dead, she would be the one he'd have brought here. She would be the one to spend the rest of his life with; not me. It's never been me. I've been unbelievably stupid to think Cato might feel anything for me.

"Clove!"

He's grabbing my arm, forcing me to stop. His grip is so tight it hurts.

"Let go."

"Not until you tell me what is going on here!" he claims. "Competing against a ghost – What do you want to say with that?"

I struggle to free myself, but he's holding me firmly.

"I can't tell you!" I blurt out. "You'll think I'm insane."

"You already seem pretty insane", Cato answers. "It can't get any more ridiculous, okay?"

"That's not what I mean", I say weakly. "Come on, let me go."

Cato looks at me critically, considering whether he should indulge me. He doesn't loosen his grip, though.

"Why don't you just tell me?" he asks, and I hear real curiosity in his voice.

"It would make me look weak", I mutter. "And you'd only be annoyed by me…"

My throat feels so dry; I wonder how I even manage to speak. I swallow hard and try to blink the tears away, but they're slowly soaking their way through my closed eyelids. I'm crying and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.

"Hey", Cato says quietly. "Listen; I would never be annoyed by you."

When I feel his hand on my cheek, I abruptly turn away from him.

"You would leave me", I say, my eyes fixed on the stony path beneath my feet. "But then again, you were never really here. You were always with _her."_

The words are suddenly returning to me, and before I can stop myself, they start pouring out of my mouth like a waterfall. Cato doesn't even have a chance to answer.

"Did you pretend I was her? Is that the reason why you brought me here? You told me you loved me because she was dead, and all I've ever been is her replacement! Why did you do that, Cato? What did you think? _I believed you!_"

"Hold on!" he finally interrupts me. Then, breathing deeply, he says: "Okay, I get it. But you're right; that's completely insane."

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter if you go now", I reply. "You've never been with me, so it's not even possible for me to lose you, is it?"

Cato's hands are on my shoulders and I have no chance but to look up at him, right into his eyes. Their gray is so pure, so full of honesty. Whatever he's going to tell me now, it can't be a lie.

"Clove", he says softly, and my heart starts melting away by the sound of his voice.

Cato is brushing back a strand of my black hair that has fallen into my face. He's as careful as if he was holding a strand of pure gold between his fingers. And there's always the sincerity in his eyes, always steady, never faltering.

"You remember what I told you in the arena, don't you?" he goes on. "I said that I _loved _you. And I'll say it again whenever you like, because I meant it. It was meant for you, and not for Glimmer."

I sigh. "But –"

"No", Cato cuts me off. "I told you Glimmer didn't mean anything to me. I've never mourned her death. You know why I flirted with her during the Games, but I was stupid to think a simple explanation would be enough. My explanation didn't erase those images, of course. And now you're remembering me with Glimmer and you keep thinking she must mean anything to me…"

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done this. You don't deserve to be treated this way."

I close my eyes so I won't be distracted by Cato's intense look. Then I try to understand what he's just said. I try to get everything, every bit of it, but I don't think it works.

_It was meant for you, and not for Glimmer._

And still it hurts when he's saying her name. Still I can hear those deep emotions in his voice.

Except he's right and they're for me, like he said.

Could it be that he, Cato, loves _me? _Me, Clove, and not her? Could that be possible, considering all the memories in my head? All those images showing Cato and Glimmer and the admiring look in his eyes and the bright grin on her face…

And they're real. Those moments have happened, they have existed, Cato has given her the exact same look he gives her again and again in my memory – and now he's telling me that it doesn't mean anything.

"This is all my fault", Cato says when I've been silent for a while. "I've been a coward. I should've told you right away that I love you."

The question is erupting in my mind like lightning on a blank summer sky. Time is running backward, seconds are passing in front of my eyes, the whole scene is rewinding until the moment when I asked my question. The one that started everything.

"When did you know it?" I whisper.

Understanding flashes across Cato's face. "So you're asking for the moment I first knew that I love you?"

I nod.

Cato cups my face with his hands, his eyes steady on mine, and gives me the most beautiful smile I've ever seen on him.

"That's easy, you know? I've known that I love you since I saw you at the reaping in that stunning dress, and my heart stopped for a second and the sight of you took my breath away. I've known it since then, Clove. I've just never been able to admit it."


End file.
